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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 

COLLEGE 


PRESENTED  BY 

Charles  V/.  Edv^ards; 
Harold  S.  Edv/ards,  Jr. 
from  the  library  of 
Jettie  Vf,  Edv^ards 


\^ 


ie  Old  Corner  Book 

Store,  Inc. 
ostoni      -      Mass. 


NEW    POEMS 


By  the  Same  Author 
POEMS 

SISTER  SONGS 
SELECTED  POEMS 
THE   HOUND  OF  HEAVEN 


NEW    POEMS 


BY 

FRANCIS   THOMPSON 


NEW  YORK 
JOHN   LANE   COMPANY 
MCMXIV 


COPYRIGHT    1897    BY    COPELAND    AND    DAY 
COPYRIGHT    1 910  BY  JOHN   LANE   COMPANY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA  COLLEGE  LIBRA^ 

DEDICATION 


To    COVENTRY    PATMORE 


Lo,  my  book  thinks  to  look  Time's  leaguer  doivn^ 
Under  the  banner  of  your  spread  reno^vn ! 
Or  if  these  levies  of  impuissant  rhyme 
Fall  to  the  o'verthronv  of  assaulting  Time, 
Yet  this  one  page  shall  fend  obli'vious  shame. 
Armed  ivith  your  crested  and  pre-vailing  Name. 


Note.  —  This  dedication  was  written  while  the  dear  friend  and  great  Poet  to 
whom  it  was  addressed  yet  lived.  It  is  left  as  he  saw  it  —  the  last  verses  of  mine 
that  were  ever  to  pass  under  his  eyes.  —  F.  T. 


Contents 


Page 

SIGHT  AND   INSIGHT  I 

THE  MISTRESS  OF  VISION  3 

CONTEMPLATION  lO 

THE  DREAD  OF  HEIGHT  I  4 

ORIENT  ODE  17 

NEW  year's  chimes  23 

FROM  THE  NIGHT  OF  FOREBEING  26 

ANY  SAINT  37 

ASSUMPTA    MARIA  43 

THE  AFTER   WOMAN  48 

GRACE  OF  THE  WAY  49 

RETROSPECT  5 1 

A   NARROW  VESSEL  55 

A   girl's  SIN  :    I.  IN  HER  EYES  57 

A  girl's  SIN  :     II.  IN   HIS   EYES  60 

LOVE  DECLARED  62 

THE  WAY  OF  A  MAID  63 

BEGINNING  OF  END  64 

PENELOPE  64 

THE   END  OF  IT  65 

EPILOGUE  66 

MISCELLANEOUS  ODES:  — 

ODE  TO  THE  SETTING  SUN  69 
A  CAPTAIN  OF  SONG  :    ON  A  PORTRAIT  OF  COVEN- 
TRY PATMORE  BY  J.   S.    SARGENT,    R.A.  79 
AGAINST  URANIA  80 
AN   ANTHEM   OF  EARTH  8? 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS:—  Page 

*  EX  ORE  INFANTIUM  *  97 
A  QUESTION  98 
FIELD-FLOWER  I OO 
THE  cloud's  swan-song  IOI 
TO  THE  SINKING  SUN  IO5 
grief's  HARMONICS  I06 
MEMORAT  MEMORIA  IO7 
JULY  FUGITIVE  I08 
TO  A  SNOW-FLAKE  I  I  I 
NOCTURN  I  I  I 
A  MAY  BURDEN  1  I  2 
A  DEAD  ASTRONOMER  I  I  3 
CHOSE  VUE  I  14 

*  WHERETO  ART  THOU  COME  ?  *  1  I  4 
HEAVEN  AND  HELL  I  I  5 
TO  A  CHILD  1  I  5 
HERMES  116 
HOUSE  OF  BONDAGE  I16 
THE  HEART  1  I  7 
A  SUNSET  I  I  8 
HEARD  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  I  21 

ULTIMA:  — 

love's  ALMSMAN   PLAINETH   HIS  FARE  I  29 

A  HOLOCAUST  I  30 

BENEATH  A   PHOTOGRAPH  I3I 

AFTER  HER  GOING  I  3  I 

MY  LADY  THE  TYRANNESS  I  3  2 

UNTO  THIS  LAST  I  3  5 

ULTIMUM  137 

ENVOY  138 


SIGHT    AND   INSIGHT 

*  Wisdom  is  easily  seen  by  them  that  love  her,  and  is 
found  by  them  that  seek  her. 
To  think  therefore  upon  her  is  perfect  understanding.* 

Wisdom,  vi. 


THE   MISTRESS   OF   VISION 

I 
lECRET  was  the  garden  ; 
.Set  i'  the  pathless  awe 
AVhere  no  star  its  breath  can  draw. 
/Life,  that  is  its  warden, 
J  Sits  behind   the   fosse  of  death.      Mine 
eyes  saw  not,  and  I  saw. 


It  was  a  mazeful  wonder ; 
Thrice  three  times  it  was  enwalled 
With  an  emerald  — 
Sealed  so  asunder. 
All  its  birds  in  middle  air  hung  a-dream,  their  music 
thralled. 


The  Lady  of  fair  weeping. 
At  the  garden's  core. 
Sang  a  song  of  sweet  and  sore 
And  the  after-sleeping  ; 
In  the  land  of  Luthany,  and  the  tracts  of  Elenore. 


With  sweet-panged  singing. 
Sang  she  through  a  dream-night's  day; 
That  the  bowers  might  stay. 
Birds  bate  their  winging. 
Nor  the  wall  of  emerald  float  in  wreathed  haze  away. 

3 


The  Mis-  V 

*V^sion  The  lily  kept  its  gleaming. 

In  her  tears  (divine  conservers!) 
Washed  with  sad  art  ; 
And  the  flowers  of  dreaming 
Paled  not  their  fervours. 

For  her  blood  flowed  through  their  nervures ; 
And  the  roses  were  most  red,  for  she  dipt  them  in  her 
heart. 


There  was  never  moon. 
Save  the  white  sufficing  woman : 
Light  most  heavenly-human  — 
Like  the  unseen  form  of  sound. 
Sensed  invisibly  in  tune,  — 
With  a  sun-derived  stole 
Did  inaureole 

All  her  lovely  body  round  ; 
Lovelily  her  lucid  body  with  that  light  was  interstrewn. 


The  sun  which  lit  that  garden  wholly. 
Low  and  vibrant  visible. 
Tempered  glory  woke  ; 
And  it  seemed  solely 
Like  a  silver  thurible 
Solemnly  swung,  slowly. 
Fuming  clouds  of  golden  fire  for  a  cloud  of  incense- 
smoke. 


VIII 

But  woe  's  me,  and  woe  's  me. 
For  the  secrets  of  her  eyes  ! 


In  my  visions  fearfully  The  Mis- 

They  are  ever  shown  to  be  Vision 

As  fringed  pools,  whereof  each  lies 
Pallid-dark  beneath  the  skies 
Of  a  night  that  is 
But  one  blear  necropolis. 
And  her   eyes   a  little   tremble,  in   the  wind   of  her 
own  sighs. 


Many  changes  rise  on 
Their  phantasmal  mysteries. 
They  grow  to  an  horizon 
Where  earth  and  heaven  meet ; 
And  like  a  wing  that  dies  on 
The  vague  twilight-verges. 
Many  a  sinking  dream  doth  fleet 
Lessening  down  their  secrecies. 
And,  as  dusk  with  day  converges. 
Their  orbs  are  troublously 
Over-gloomed  and  over-glowed  with  hope  and  fear  of 
things  to  be. 


There  is  a  peak  on  Himalay, 
And  on  the  peak  undeluged  snow 
And  on  the  snow  not  eagles  stray  ; 
There  if  your  strong  feet  could  go,  — 
Looking  over  tow'rd  Cathay 
From  the  never-deluged  snow  — 
Farthest  ken  might  not  survey 
Where  the  peoples  underground  dwell,  whom  antique 
fables  know. 
5 


The  Mis-  XI 

tress  of 

Vision  East,  ah,  east  of  Himalay, 

Dwell  the  nations  underground  ; 
Hiding  from  the  shock  of  Day, 
For  the  sun's  uprising-sound  : 
Dare  not  issue  from  the  ground 
At  the  tumults  of  the  Day, 
So  fearfully  the  sun  doth  sound 
Clanging  up  beyond  Cathay  ; 
For  the  great  earthquaking  sunrise  rolling  up  beyond 
Cathay. 


Lend  me,  O  lend  me 
The  terrors  of  that  sound. 
That  its  music  may  attend  me. 
Wrap  my  chant  in  thunders  round  ; 
While  I  tell  the  ancient  secrets  in  that  Lady's  singing 
found. 

XIII 

On  Ararat  there  grew  a  vine. 
When  Asia  from  her  bathing  rose ; 
Our  first  sailor  made  a  twine 
Thereof  for  his  prefiguring  brows. 
Canst  divine 
Where,  upon  our  dusty  earth,  of  that  vine  a  cluster 


grows 


XIV 


On  Golgotha  there  grew  a  thorn 
Round  the  long-prefigured  Brows. 
Mourn,  O  mourn  ! 
For  the  vine  have  we  the  spine  ?    Is  this  all  the  Heaven 
allows  ? 

6 


XV  The  Mis- 

tress of 

On  Calvary  was  shook  a  spear  ;  Vision 

Press  the  point  into  thy  heart  — 
Joy  and  fear  ! 
All  the  spines  upon  the  thorn  into  curling  tendrils  start. 


O  dismay  ! 

I,  a  wingless  mortal,  sporting 
With  the  tresses  of  the  sun  ? 
I,  that  dare  my  hand  to  lay 
On  the  thunder  in  its  snorting  ? 
Ere  begun. 
Falls  my   singed  song  down   the   sky,   even   the  old 
Icarian  way. 


From  the  fall  precipitant 
These  dim  snatches  of  her  chant 
Only  have  remained  mine  ;  — 
That  from  spear  and  thorn  alone 
May  be  grown 
For  the  front  of  saint  or  singer  any  divinizing  twine. 


Her  song  said  that  no  springing 
Paradise  but  evermore 
Hangeth  on  a  singing 
That  has  chords  of  weeping. 
And  that  sings  the  after-sleeping 
To  souls  which  wake  too  sore. 
*  But  woe  the  singer,  woe  ! '  she  said  ;   '  beyond  the 
dead  his  singing-lore. 
All  its  art  of  sweet  and  sore. 
He  learns,  in  Elenore  ! ' 
7 


The  Mis-  XIX 

tress  of 

Vision  Where  is  the  land  of  Luthany, 

Where  is  the  tract  of  Elenore  ? 
I  am  bound  therefor. 


*  Pierce  thy  heart  to  find  the  key  ; 
With  thee  take 

Only  what  none  else  would  keep ; 
Learn  to  dream  when  thou  dost  wake. 
Learn  to  wake  when  thou  dost  sleep. 
Learn  to  water  joy  with  tears. 
Learn  from  fears  to  vanquish  fears ; 
To  hope,  for  thou  dar'st  not  despair. 
Exult,  for  that  thou  dar'st  not  grieve; 
Plough  thou  the  rock  until  it  bear  ; 
Know,  for  thou  else  couldst  not  believe ; 
Lose,  that  the  lost  thou  may'st  receive  ; 
Die,  for  none  other  way  canst  live. 
When  earth  and  heaven  lay  down  their  veil. 
And  that  apocalypse  turns  thee  pale  ; 
When  thy  seeing  blindeth  thee 
To  what  thy  fellow-mortals  see  ; 
When  their  sight  to  thee  is  sightless ; 
Their  living,  death  ;  their  light,  most  lightless; 
Search  no  more  — 
Pass  the  gates  of  Luthany,  tread  the  region  Elenore.* 


Where  is  the  land  of  Luthany, 
And  where  the  region  Elenore  1 
I  do  faint  therefor. 
*  When  to  the  new  eyes  of  thee 
All  things  by  immortal  power. 
Near  or  far. 


Hiddenly  The  Mis. 

To  each  other  linked  are.  Vision 

That  thou  canst  not  stir  a  flower 
Without  troubling  of  a  star  ; 
When  thy  song  is  shield  and  mirror 
To  the  fair  snake-curled  Pain, 
Where  thou  dar'st  affront  her  terror 
That  on  her  thou  may'st  attain 
Persean  conquest ;  seek  no  more, 
O  seek  no  more  ! 
Pass  the  gates  of  Luthany,  tread  the  region  Elenore! ' 


So  sang  she,  so  wept  she. 
Through  a  dream-night's  day  ; 
And  with  her  magic  singing  kept  she  — 
Mystical  in  music  — 
That  garden  of  enchanting 
In  visionary  May  ; 
Swayless  for  my  spirit's  haunting, 
Thrice-threefold  walled  with  emerald  from  our  mortal 
mornings  grey. 


And  as  a  necromancer 
Raises  from  the  rose-ash 
The  ghost  of  the  rose  ; 
My  heart  so  made  answer 
To  her  voice's  silver  plash,  — 
Stirred  in  reddening  flash. 
And  from  out  its  mortal  ruins  the  purpureal  phantom 
blows, 
9 


The  Mis-  XXIV 

tress  of 

Vision  Her  tears  made  dulcet  fretting. 

Her  voice  had  no  word. 
More  than  thunder  or  the  bird. 
Yet,  unforgetting. 
The  ravished  soul  her  meanings  knew^.       Mine 
heard  not,  and  I  heard. 


When  she  shall  unwind 
All  those  wiles  she  wound  about  me 
Tears  shall  break  from  out  me. 
That  I  cannot  find 
Music  in  the  holy  poets  to  my  wistful  want,  I  doubt 
me ! 


CONTEMPLATION 

j^HIS  morning  saw  I,  fled  the  shower, 
)The  earth  reclining  in  a  lull  of  power: 
The  heavens,  pursuing  not  their  path. 
Lay  stretched  out  naked  after  bath. 
Or  so  it  seemed;  field,  water,  tree,  were  still. 
Nor  was  there  any  purpose  on  the  calm-browed  hill. 

The  hill,  which  sometimes  visibly  is 
Wrought  with  unresting  energies. 
Looked  idly  ;  from  the  musing  wood. 
And  every  rock,  a  life  renewed 
Exhaled  like  an  unconscious  thought 
When  poets,  dreaming  unperplexed. 
Dream  that  they  dream  of  nought. 
Nature  one  hour  appears  a  thing  unsexed, 

10 


Or  to  such  serene  balance  brought  Contempla-. 

That  her  twin  natures  cease  their  sweet  alarms,  '""* 

And  sleep  in  one  another's  arms. 

The  sun  with  resting  pulses  seems  to  brood. 

And  slacken  its  command  upon  my  unurged  blood. 

The  river  has  not  any  care 
Its  passionless  water  to  the  sea  to  bear ; 
The  leaves  have  brown  content  ; 
The  wall  to  me  has  freshness  like  a  scent. 
And  takes  half  animate  the  air. 
Making  one  life  with  its  green  moss  and  stain  ; 
And  life  with  all  things  seems  too  perfect  blent 
For  anything  of  life  to  be  aware. 
The  very  shades  on  hill,  and  tree,  and  plain. 
Where  they  have  fallen  doze,  and  where  they   doze 
remain. 

No  hill  can  idler  be  than  I  ; 
No  stone  its  inter-particled  vibration 
Investeth  with  a  stiller  lie ; 
No  heaven  with  a  more  urgent  rest  betrays 
The  eyes  that  on  it  gaze. 
We  are  too  near  akin  that  thou  shouldst  cheat 
Me,  Nature,  with  thy  fair  deceit. 
In  poets  floating  like  a  water-flower 
Upon  the  bosom  of  the  glassy  hour. 
In  skies  that  no  man  sees  to  move. 
Lurk  untumultuous  vortices  of  power. 
For  joy  too  native,  and  for  agitation 
Too  instant,  too  entire  for  sense  thereof. 
Motion  like  gnats  when  autumn  suns  are  low. 
Perpetual  as  the  prisoned  feet  of  love 
On  the  heart's  floors  with  pained  pace  that  go. 
From  stones  and  poets  you  may  know. 
Nothing  so  active  is,  as  that  which  least  seems  so. 
II 


Coniempla-  For  he,  that  conduit  running  wine  of  song, 

tion  Then  to  himselfdoes  most  belong. 

When  he  his  mortal  house  unbars 
To  the  importunate  and  thronging  feet 
That  round  our  corporal  walls  unheeded  beat  ; 
Till,  all  containing,  he  exalt 
His  stature  to  the  stars,  or  stars 
Narrow  their  heaven  to  his  fleshly  vault : 
When,  like  a  city  under  ocean. 
To  human  things  he  grows  a  desolation. 
And  is  made  a  habitation 
For  the  fluctuous  universe 
To  lave  with  unimpeded  motion. 
He  scarcely  frets  the  atmosphere 
With  breathing,  and  his  body  shares 
The  immobility  of  rocks  ; 
His  heart 's  a  drop-well  of  tranquillity  ; 
His  mind  more  still  is  than  the  limbs  of  fear. 
And  yet  its  unperturbed  velocity 
The  spirit  of  the  simoom  mocks. 
He  round  the  solemn  centre  of  his  soul 
Wheels  like  a  dervish,  while  his  being  is 
Streamed  with  the  set  of  the  world's  harmonies. 
In  the  long  draft  of  whatsoever  sphere 
He  lists  the  sweet  and  clear 
Clangour  of  his  high  orbit  on  to  roll. 
So  gracious  is  his  heavenly  grace  ; 
And  the  bold  stars  does  hear. 
Every  one  in  his  airy  soar. 
For  evermore 

Shout  to  each  other  from  the  peaks  of  space. 
As  thwart  ravines  of  azure  shouts  the  mountaineer. 


BY   REASON   OF   THY   LAW* 

^||)ERE  I  make  oath  — 

]Although  the  heart  that  knows  its  bitterness 
(Here  loath. 
And  credit  less  — 

That  he  who  kens  to  meet  Pain's  kisses  fierce 
Which  hiss  against  his  tears. 
Dread,  loss,  nor  love  frustrate. 
Nor  all  iniquity  of  the  frovvard  years 
Shall  his  inured  wing  make  idly  bate. 
Nor  of  the  appointed  quarry  his  staunch  sight 
To  lose  observance  quite  ; 
Seal  from  half-sad  and  all-elate 
Sagacious  eyes 
Ultimate  Paradise  ; 
Nor  shake  his  certitude  of  haughty  fate. 

Pacing  the  burning  shares  of  many  dooms, 

I  with  stern  tread  do  the  clear-witting  stars 

To  judgment  cite. 

If  I  have  borne  aright 

The  proving  of  their  pure-willed  ordeal. 

From  food  of  all  delight 

The  heavenly  Falconer  my  heart  debars. 

And  tames  with  fearful  glooms 

The  haggard  to  His  call  ; 

Yet  sometimes  comes  a  hand,  sometimes  a  voice  withal. 

And  she  sits  meek  now,  and  expects  the  light. 

In  this  Avernian  sky. 

This  sultry  and  incumbent  canopy 

Of  dull  and  doomed  regret ; 

Where  on  the  unseen  verges  yet,  O  yet. 

At  intervals. 

Trembles,  and  falls. 

Faint  lightning  of  remembered  transient  sweet  — 

13 


'By  Rfason  Ah,  far  too  sweet 

of  thy  Law'  g^^  jq  ^g  sweet  a  little,  a  little  sweet,  and  fleet; 

Leaving  this  pallid  trace. 

This  loitering  and  most  fitful  light  a  space. 

Still  some  sad  space. 

For  Grief  to  see  her  own  poor  face  :  — 

Here  where  I  keep  my  stand 

With  all  o'er-anguished  feet. 

And  no  live  comfort  near  on  any  hand  ; 

Lo,  I  proclaim  the  unavoided  term. 

When  this  morass  of  tears,  then  drained  and  firm. 

Shall  be  a  land  — 

Unshaken  I  affirm  — 

Where  seven-quired  psalterings  meet  ; 

And  all  the  gods  move  with  calm  hand  in  hand. 

And  eyes  that  know  not  trouble  and  the  worm. 


mmG 


THE   DREAD   OF   HEIGHT 

If  ye  were  blind,  ye  should  have  no  sin  :    but 
NOW  YE  say:   We  see:  your  sin   remaineth. 

John  ix.  41. 
^[^OT  the  Circean  wine 
^Most  perilous  is  for  pain  : 

Jrapes  of  the  heaven's  star-loaden  vine. 
Whereto  the  lofty-placed 
Thoughts  of  fair  souls  attain. 
Tempt  with  a  more  retributive  delight. 
And  do  disrelish  all  life's  sober  taste. 
'T  is  to  have  drunk  too  well 
The  drink  that  is  divine, 
Maketh  the  kind  earth  waste. 
And  breath  intolerable. 

>4 


Ah  me  !  The  Dread 

How  shall  my  mouth  content  it  with  mortality  ?  oj  Height 

Lo,  secret  music,  sweetest  music. 

From  distances  of  distance  drifting  its  lone  flight, 

Down  the  arcane  where  Night  would  perish  in  night. 

Like  a  god's  loosened  locks  slips  undulously  : 

Music  that  is  too  grievous  of  the  height 

For  safe  and  low  delight. 

Too  infinite. 

For  bounded  hearts  which  yet  would  girth  the  sea  ! 

So  let  it  be. 

Though  sweet  be  great,  and  though  my  heart  be  small  : 
So  let  it  be, 

O  music,  mUsic,  though  you  wake  in  me 
No  joy,  no  joy  at  all ; 
Although  you  only  wake 
Uttermost  sadness,  measure  of  delight. 
Which  else  1  could  not  credit  to  the  height. 
Did  I  not  know. 

That  ill  is  statured  to  its  opposite ; 
Did  I  not  know. 
And  even  of  sadness  so. 
Of  utter  sadness  make. 
Of  extreme  sad  a  rod  to  mete 
The  incredible  excess  of  unsensed  sweet. 
And  mystic  wall  of  strange  felicity. 
So  let  it  be. 

Though  sweet  be  great,  and  though  my  heart  be  small. 
And  bitter  meat 

The  food  of  gods  for  men  to  eat ; 
Yea,  John  ate  daintier,  and  did  tread 
Less  ways  of  heat. 
Than  whom  to  their  wind-carpeted 
High  banquet-hall. 

And  golden  love-feasts,  the  fair  stars  entreat. 
15 


The  Dread  But  ah  withal, 

of  Height      Some  hold,  some  stay, 

O  difficult  Joy,  I  pray. 

Some  arms  of  thine. 

Not  only,  only  arms  of  mine  ! 

Lest  Hke  a  weary  girl  I  fall 

From  clasping  love  so  high. 

And  lacking  thus  thine  arms,  then  may 

Most  hapless  I 

Turn  utterly  to  love  of  basest  rate  ; 

For  low  they  fall  whose  fall  is  from  the  sky. 

Yea,  who  me  shall  secure 

But  I  of  height  grown  desperate 

Surcease  my  wing,  and  my  lost  fate 

Be  dashed  from  pure 

To  broken  writhings  in  the  shameful  slime : 

Lower  than  man,  for  I  dreamed  higher. 

Thrust  down,  by  how  much  I  aspire. 

And  damned  with  drink  of  immortality  ? 

For  such  things  be^ 

Yea,  and  the  lowest  reach  of  reeky  Hell 

Is  but  made  possible 

By  foreta'en  breath  of  Heaven's  austerest  clime. 

These  tidings  from  the  vast  to  bring 

Needeth  not  doctor  nor  divine. 

Too  well,  too  well 

My  flesh  doth  know  the  heart-perturbing  thing ; 

That  dread  theology  alone 

Is  mine. 

Most  native  and  my  own  ; 

And  ever  with  victorious  toil 

When  I  have  made 

Of  the  deific  peaks  dim  escalade. 

My  soul  with  anguish  and  recoil 

Doth  like  a  city  in  an  earthquake  rock, 

i6 


As  at  my  feet  the  abyss  is  cloven  then.  The  Dre'aa 

With  deeper  menace  than  for  other  men,  of  Height 

Of  my  potential  cousinship  with  mire  ; 

That  all  my  conquered  skies  do  grow  a  hollow  mock. 

My  fearful  powers  retire. 

No  longer  strong, 

Reversing  the  shook  banners  of  their  song. 

Ah,  for  a  heart  less  native  to  high  Heaven, 

A  hooded  eye,  for  jesses  and  restraint. 

Or  for  a  will  accipitrine  to  pursue  ! 

The  veil  of  tutelar  flesh  to  simple  livers  given. 

Or  those  brave-fledging  fervours  of  the  Saint, 

Whose  heavenly  falcon-craft  doth  never  taint. 

Nor  they  in  sickest  time  their  ample  virtue  mew. 


^ZSSl. 


3RIENT  ODE 

^O,  in  the  sanctuaried  East, 
)Day,  a  dedicated  priest 
\ln  all  his  robes  pontifical  exprest, 
Lifteth  slowly,  lifteth  sweetly. 
From  out  its  Orient  tabernacle  drawn. 
Yon  orbed  sacrament  confest 
Which  sprinkles  benediction  through  the  dawn. 
And  when  the  grave  procession's  ceased. 
The  earth  with  due  illustrious  rite 
Blessed,  —  ere  the  frail  fingers  featly 
Of  twilight,  violet-cassockcd  acolyte. 
His  sacerdotal  stoles  unvest  — 
Sets,  for  high  close  of  the  mysterious  feast. 
The  sun  in  august  exposition  meetly 
Within  the  flaming  monstrance  of  the  West. 
17  2 


Orient  Ode  O  salutaris  hostia^ 

Quee  coeli  pandis  ostium  ! 
Through  breached  darkness'  rampart,  a 
Divine  assaulter,  art  thou  come  ! 
God  whom  none  may  live  and  mark  ! 
Borne  within  thy  radiant  ark. 
While  the  Earth,  a  joyous  David, 
Dances  before  thee  from  the  dawn  to  dark. 
The  moon,  O  leave,  pale  ruined  Eve  ; 
Behold  her  fair  and  greater  daughter  ^ 
Offers  to  thee  her  fruitful  water. 
Which  at  thy  first  white  ^ve  shall  conceive  ! 
Thy  gazes  do  on  simple  her 
Desirable  allures  confer  ; 
What  happy  comelinesses  rise 
Beneath  thy  beautifying  eyes  ! 
Who  was,  indeed,  at  first  a  maid 
Such  as,  with  sighs,  misgives  she  is  not  fair. 
And  secret  views  herself  afraid. 
Till  flatteries  sweet  provoke  the  charms  they  swear : 
Yea,  thy  gazes,  blissful  lover. 
Make  the  beauties  they  discover  ! 
What  dainty  guiles  and  treacheries  caught 
From  artful  prompting  of  love's  artless  thought 
Her  lowly  loveliness  teach  her  to  adorn. 
When  thy  plumes  shiver  against  the  conscious  gates 
of  morn  ! 


And  so  the  love  which  is  thy  dower. 
Earth,  though  her  first-frightened  breast 
Against  the  exigent  boon  protest, 
(For  she,  poor  maid,  of  her  own  power 
Has  nothing  in  herself,  not  even  love. 
But  an  unwitting  void  thereof). 


1  The  earth 


|8 


Gives  back  to  thee  in  sanctities  of  flower  ;  Orient  Ode 

And  holy  odours  do  her  bosom  invest. 

That  sweeter  grows  for  being  prest : 

Though  dear  recoil,  the  tremorous  nurse  of  joy. 

From  thine  embrace  still  stardes  coy. 

Till  Phosphor  lead,  at  thy  returning  hour. 

The  laughing  captive  from  the  wishing  West. 


Nor  the  majestic  heavens  less 

Thy  formidable  sweets  approve. 

Thy  dreads  and  thy  delights  confess. 

That  do  draw,  and  that  remove. 

Thou  as  a  lion  roar'st,  O  Sun, 

Upon  thy  satellites'  vexed  heels  ; 

Before  thy  terrible  hunt  thy  planets  run ; 

Each  in  his  frighted  orbit  wheels. 

Each  flies  through  inassuageable  chase. 

Since  the  hunt  o'  the  world  begun. 

The  puissant  approaches  of  thy  face. 

And  yet  thy  radiant  leash  he  feels. 

Since  the  hunt  o'  the  world  begun. 

Lashed  with  terror,  leashed  with  longing. 

The  mighty  course  is  ever  run  ; 

Pricked  with  terror,  leashed  with  longing. 

Thy  rein  they  love,  and  thy  rebuke  they  shun. 

Since  the  hunt  o'  the  world  began. 

With  love  that  trembleth,  fear  that  loveth. 

Thou  join' St  the  woman  to  the  man  ; 

And  Life  with  Death 

In  obscure  nuptials  moveth. 

Commingling  alien,  yet  affined  breath. 


Thou  art  the  incarnated  Light 
Whose  Sire  is  aboriginal,  and  beyond 


Orient  Ode  Death  and  resurgence  of  our  day  and  night ; 
From  him  is  thy  vicegerent  wand 
With  double  potence  of  the  black  and  white. 
Giver  of  Love,  and  Beauty,  and  Desire, 
The  terror,  and  the  loveliness,  and  purging. 
The  deathfulness  and  lifefulness  of  fire! 
Samson's  riddling  meanings  merging 
In  thy  twofold  sceptre  meet : 
Out  of  thy  minatory  might. 
Burning  Lion,  burning  Lion, 
Comes  the  honey  of  all  sweet. 
And  out  of  thee,  the  eater,  comes  forth  meat. 
And  though,  by  thine  alternate  breath. 
Every  kiss  thou  dost  inspire 
Echoeth 

Back  from  the  windy  vaultages  of  death  ; 
Yet  thy  clear  warranty  above 
Aug-urs  the  wings  of  death  too  must 
Occult  reverberations  stir  of  love 
Crescent  and  life  incredible  ; 
That  even  the  kisses  of  the  just 
Go  down  not  unresurgent  to  the  dust. 
Yea,  not  a  kiss  which  I  have  given. 
But  shall  triumph  upon  my  lips  in  heaven. 
Or  cling  a  shameful  fungus  there  in  hell. 
Know'st  thou  me  not,  O  Sun?      Yea,  well 
Thou  know'st  the  ancient  miracle. 
The  children  know'st  of  Zeus  and  May  ; 
And  still  thou  teachest  them,  O  splendent  Brother, 
To  incarnate,  the  antique  way. 
The  truth  which  is  their  heritage  from  their  Sire 
In  sweet  disguise  of  flesh  from  their  sweet  Mother. 
My  fingers  thou  hast  taught  to  con 
Thy  flame-chorded  psalterion. 
Till  I  can  translate  into  mortal  wire  — 
Till  I  can  translate  passing  well  — 


The  heavenly  harping  harmony.  Orient  Ode 

Melodious,  sealed,  inaudible. 

Which  makes  the  dulcet  psalter  of  the  world's  desire. 

Thou  vvhisperest  in  the  Moon's  white  ear. 

And  she  does  whisper  into  mine,  — 

By  night  together,  I  and  she  — 

With  her  virgin  voice  divine. 

The  things  I  cannot  half  so  sweetly  tell 

As  she  can  sweetly  speak,  I  sweetly  hear. 

By  her,  the  Woman,  does  Earth  live,  O  Lord, 

Yet  she  for  Earth,  and  both  in  thee. 

Light  out  of  Light  ! 

Resplendent  and  prevailing  Word 

Of  the  Unheard! 

Not  unto  thee,  great  Image,  not  to  thee 

Did  the  wise  heathen  bend  an  idle  knee  ; 

And  in  an  age  of  faith  grown  frore 

If  I  too  shall  adore. 

Be  it  accounted  unto  me 

A  bright  sciential  idolatry! 

God  has  given  thee  visible  thunders 

To  utter  thine  apocalypse  of  wonders  ; 

And  what  want  I  of  prophecy. 

That  at  the  sounding  from  thy  station 

Of  thy  flagrant  trumpet,  see 

The  seals  that  melt,  the  open  revelation  ? 

Or  who  a  God-persuading  angel  needs. 

That  onlv  heeds 

The  rhetoric  of  thy  burning  deeds  ? 

Which  but  to  sing,  if  it  may  be. 

In  worship-warranting  moiety. 

So  I  would  win 

In  such  a  song  as  hath  within 

A  smouldering  core  of  mystery. 

Brimmed  with  nimbler  meanings  up 


Orient  Ode  Than  hasty  Gideons  in  their  hands  may  sup  ;  — 
Lo,  my  suit  pleads 
That  thou,  Isaian  coal  of  fire. 
Touch  from  yon  altar  my  poor  mouth's  desire. 
And  the  relucent  song  take  for  thy  sacred  meeds ! 

To  thine  own  shape 

Thou  round'st  the  chrysolite  of  the  grape, 

Bind'st  thy  gold  lightnings  in  his  veins  ; 

Thou  storest  the  white  garners  of  the  rains. 

Destroyer  and  preserver,  thou 

Who  medicinest  sickness,  and  to  health 

Art  the  unthanked  marrow  of  its  wealth  ; 

To  those  apparent  sovereignties  we  bow 

And  bright  appurtenances  of  thy  brow  ! 

Thy  proper  blood  dost  thou  not  give. 

That  Earth,  the  gusty  Msnad,  drink  and  dance  ? 

Art  thou  not  life  of  them  that  live  ? 

Yea,  in  glad  twinkling  advent,  thou  dost  dwell 

Within  our  body  as  a  tabernacle  ! 

Thou  bittest  with  thine  ordinance 

The  jaws  of  Time,  and  thou  dost  mete 

The  unsustainable  treading  of  his  feet. 

Thou  to  thy  spousal  universe 

Art  Husband,  she  thy  Wife  and  Church  ; 

Who  in  most  dusk  and  vidual  curch. 

Her  Lord  being  hence. 

Keeps  her  cold  sorrows  by  thy  hearse. 

The  heavens  renew  their  innocence 

And  morning  state 

But  by  thy  sacrament  communicate; 

Their  weeping  night  the  symbol  of  our  prayers. 

Our  darkened  search. 

And  sinful  vigil  desolate. 

Yea,  biune  in  imploring  dumb. 

Essential  Heavens  and  corporal  Earth  await, 

22 


The  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say  :   Come  !  Orient  Ode 

Lo,  of  thy  Magians  I  the  least 

Haste  with  my  gold,  my  incenses  and  myrrhs. 

To  thy  desired  epiphany,  from  the  spiced 

Regions  and  odorous  of  Song's  traded  East. 

Thou,  for  the  life  of  all  that  live 

The  victim  daily  born  and  sacrificed  ; 

To  whom  the  pinion  of  this  longing  verse 

Beats  but  with  fire  which  first  thyself  did  give. 

To  thee,  O  Sun  —  or  is  't  perchance  to  Christ? 

Ay,  if  men  say  that  on  all  high  heaven's  face 

The  saintly  signs  I  trace 

Which  round  my  stoled  altars  hold  their  solemn  place. 

Amen,  amen  !   For  oh,  how  could  it  be,  — 

When  I  with  winged  feet  had  run 

Through  all  the  windy  earth  about. 

Quested  its  secret  of  the  sun. 

And  heard  what  thing  the  stars  together  shout,  — 

I  should  not  heed  thereout 

Consenting  counsel  won  :  — 

*  By  this,  O  Singer,  know  we  if  thou  see. 

When  men  shall  say  to  thee  :   Lo  !   Christ  is  here. 

When  men  shall  say  to  thee:   Lo  !   Christ  is  there. 

Believe  them  :  yea,  and  this  —  then  art  thou  seer. 

When  all  thy  crying  clear 

Is  but  :  Lo  here  !  lo  there!  —  ah  me,  lo  everywhere!* 


NEW    YEAR'S   CHIMES 

5  HAT  is  the  song  the  stars  sing  ? 

(  And  a  million  songs  are  as  song  of  one. ) 
^This  is  the  song  the  stars  sing  : 
Sweeter  song  's  none. 
23 


New  Year's  One  to  set,  and  many  to  sing. 
Chimes  (^And  a  milliofi  songs  are  as  song  of  one)  y 

One  to  stand,  and  many  to  cling. 
The  many  things,  and  the  one  Thing, 

The  one  that  runs  not,  the  many  that  run. 


The  ever  new  weaveth  the  ever  old 

{^And a  million  songs  are  as  song  of  one'). 

Ever  telling  the  never  told  ; 

The  silver  saith,  and  the  said  is  gold. 
And  done  ever  the  never  done. 


The  chase  that 's  chased  is  the  Lord  o'  the  chase 
(^And  a  million  songs  are  as  song  of  one). 

And  the  pursued  cries  on  the  race ; 

And  the  hounds  in  leash  are  the  hounds  that  run. 


Hidden  stars  by  the  shown  stars'  sheen  ; 

(^And  a  million  suns  are  but  as  one); 
Colours  unseen  by  the  colours  seen. 
And  sounds  unheard  heard  sounds  between. 

And  a  night  is  in  the  light  of  the  sun. 


An  ambuscade  of  light  in  night, 

{^And  a  million  secrets  are  but  as  one). 

And  a  night  is  dark  in  the  sun's  hght. 

And  a  world  in  the  world  man  looks  upon. 

Hidden  stars  by  the  shown  stars'  wings, 
(^And  a  million  cycles  are  but  as  one). 

And  a  world  with  unapparent  strings 

Knits  the  simulant  world  of  things  ; 
Behold,  and  vision  thereof  is  none. 

24 


The  world  above  in  the  world  below  ^f^  '^'"^'''^ 

(^And  a  million  worlds  are  but  as  one'). 
And  the  One  in  all  ;  as  the  sun's  strength  so 
Strives  in  all  strength,  glows  in  all  glow 

Of  the  earth  that  wits  not,  and  man  thereon. 


Braced  in  its  own  fourfold  embrace 

(^And  a  million  strengths  are  as  strength  of  one^. 
And  round  it  all  God's  arms  of  grace. 
The  world,  so  as  the  Vision  says. 

Doth  with  great  lightning-tramples  run. 

And  thunder  bruiteth  into  thunder, 

(^And  a  million  sounds  are  as  sound  of  one). 
From  stellate  peak  to  peak  is  tossed  a  voice  of  wonder. 
And  the  height  stoops  down  to  the  depths  thereunder. 
And  sun  leans  forth  to  his  brother  sun. 


And  the  more  ample  years  unfold 

(  With  a  million  songs  as  song  of  one) , 

A  little  new  of  the  ever  old, 

A  little  told  of  the  never  told. 
Added  act  of  the  never  done. 

Loud  the  descant,  and  low  the  theme, 
(A  million  songs  are  as  song  of  one); 
And  the  dream  of  the  world  is  dream  in  dream. 
But  the  one  Is  is,  or  nought  could  seem  ; 
And  the  song  runs  round  to  the  song  begun. 

This  is  the  song  the  stars  sing, 

(  Toned  all  in  time); 
Tintinnabulous,  tuned  to  ring 
A  multitudinous-single  thing. 

Rung  all  in  rhyme. 

25 


FROM   THE   NIGHT   OF   FOREBEING 

an  ode  after  easter 

In  the  chaos    of  preordination,   and  night  of 
OUR  FOREBEiNGs.  —  Sir  Thomas  Browne. 

Et    lux    in    TENEBRIS    ERAT,     ET    TENEBRjE    EAM    NON 
COMPREHENDERUNT.  St.    John. 

S^^^?AST  wide  the  folding  doorways  of  the  East, 

cf^p)]^For  now  is  light  increased! 

i^^^sAnd  the  wind-besomed  chambers  of  the  air. 

See  they  be  garnished  fair  ; 

And  look  the  ways  exhale  some  precious  odours. 

And  set  ye  all  about  wild-breathing  spice. 

Most  fit  for  Paradise. 

Now  is  no  time  for  sober  gravity. 

Season  enough  has  Nature  to  be  wise  ; 

But  now  discinct,  with  raiment  glittering  free. 

Shake  she  the  ringing  rafters  of  the  skies 

With  festal  footing  and  bold  joyance  sweet. 

And  let  the  earth  be  drunken  and  carouse  ! 

For  lo,  into  her  house 

Spring  is  come  home  with  her  world-wandering  feet. 

And  all  things  are  made  young  with  young  desires  ; 

And  all  for  her  is  light  increased 

In  yellow  stars  and  yellow  daffodils. 

And  East  to  West,  and  West  to  East, 

Fling  answering  welcome-fires. 

By  dawn  and  day-fall,  on  the  jocund  hills. 

And  ye,  winged  minstrels  of  her  fair  meinie. 

Being  newly  coated  in  glad  livery. 

Upon  her  steps  attend. 

And  round  her  treading  dance  and  without  end 

Reel  your  shrill  lutany. 

What  popular  breath  her  coming  does  out-tell 

The  garrulous  leaves  among  ! 

26 


What  little  noises  stir  and  pass 

From  blade  to  blade  along  the  voluble  grass  ! 

O  Nature,  never-done 

Ungaped-at  Pentecostal  miracle. 

We  hear  thee,  each  man  in  his  proper  tongue  ! 

Break,  elemental  children,  break  ye  loose 

From  the  strict  frosty  rule 

Of  grey-beard  Winter's  school. 

Vault,    O    young    winds,    vault    in     your    tricksome 

courses 
Upon  the  snowy  steeds  that  reinless  use 
In  coerule  pampas  of  the  heaven  to  run  ; 
Foaled  of  the  white  sea-horses. 
Washed  in  the  lambent  waters  of  the  sun. 
Let  even  the  slug-abed  snail  upon  the  thorn 
Put  forth  a  conscious  horn! 
Mine  elemental  co-mates,  joy  each  one  ; 
And  ah,  my  foster-brethren,  seem  not  sad  — 
No,  seem  not  sad. 

That  my  strange  heart  and  I  should  be  so  little  glad. 
Suffer  me  at  your  leafy  feast 
To  sit  apart,  a  somewhat  alien  guest. 
And  watch  your  mirth, 
Unsharing  in  the  liberal  laugh  of  earth  ; 
Yet  with  a  sympathy. 

Begot  of  wholly  sad  and  half-sweet  memory  — 
The  litde  sweetness  making  grief  complete  ; 
Faint  wind  of  wings  from  hours  that  distant  beat. 
When  I,  I  too. 

Was  once,  O  wild  companions,  as  are  you. 
Ran  with  such  wilful  feet. 
Wraith  of  a  recent  day  and  dead. 
Risen  wanly  overhead. 
Frail,  strengthless  as  a  noon-belated  moon. 
Or  as  the  glazing  eyes  of  watery  heaven. 
When  the  sick  night  sinks  into  deathly  swoon. 

27 


From  ihi 
Ntght  of 
Forcbeing 


Forebeing 


From  the    A  higher  and  a  solemn  voice 

Forebefnir  ^  ^i^^rd  through  your  gay-hearted  noise  ; 

A  solemn  meaning  and  a  stiller  voice 

Sounds  to  me  from  far  days  when  I  too  shall  rejoice. 

Nor  more  be  with  your  jollity  at  strife. 

O  prophecy 

Of  things  that  are,  and  are  not,  and  shall  be  ! 

The  great-vanned  Angel  March 

Hath  trumpeted 

His  clangorous  *  Sleep  no  more '  to  all  the  dead  — 

Beat  his  strong  vans  o'er  earth,  and  air,  and  sea. 

And  they  have  heard  ; 

Hark  to  the  Jubilate  of  the  bird 

For  them  that  found  the  dying  way  to  life  ! 

And  they  have  heard. 

And  quicken  to  the  great  precursive  word  ; 

Green  spray  showers  lightly  down  the  cascade  of  the 
larch  ; 

The  graves  are  riven. 

And  the  Sun  comes  with  power  amid  the  clouds  of 
heaven  ! 

Before  his  way 

Went  forth  the  trumpet  of  the  March  ; 

Before  his  way,  before  his  way 

Dances  the  pennon  of  the  May  ! 

O  earth,  unchilded,  widowed  Earth,  so  long 

Lifting  in  patient  pine  and  ivy-tree 

Mournftil  belief  and  steadfast  prophecy. 

Behold  how  all  things  are  made  true  ! 

Behold  your  bridegroom  cometh  in  to  you. 

Exceeding  glad  and  strong. 

Raise  up  your  eyes,  O  raise  your  eyes  abroad ! 

No  more  shall  you  sit  sole  and  vidual. 

Searching,  in  servile  pall. 

Upon  the  hieratic  night  the  star-sealed  sense  of  all: 

Rejoice,  O  barren,  and  look  forth  abroad  ! 

28 


Your  children  gathered  back  to  your  embrace 

See  with  a  mother's  face. 

Look  up,  O  mortals,  and  the  portent  heed  ; 

In  very  deed. 

Washed  with  new  fire  to  their  irradiant  birth. 

Reintegrated  are  the  heavens  and  earth  ! 

From  sky  to  sod. 

The  world's  unfolded  blossom  smells  of  God. 


From  the 
Night  of 
Forebeing 


O  imagery 

Of  that  which  was  the  first,  and  is  the  last  ! 
For  as  the  dark,  profound  nativity, 
God  saw  the  end  should  be. 
When  the  world's  infant  horoscope  He  cast. 
Unshackled  from  the  bright  Phoebean  awe. 
In  leaf,  flower,  mould,  and  tree. 
Resolved  into  dividual  liberty. 
Most  strengthless,  unparticipant,  inane. 
Or  suffered  the  ill  peace  of  lethargy, 
ho,  the  Earth  eased  of  rule  : 
Unsummered,  granted  to  her  own  worst  smart 
The  dear  wish  of  the  fool  — 
Disintegration,  merely  which  man's  heart 
For  freedom  understands. 
Amid  the  frog-like  errors  from  the  damp 
And  quaking  swamp 

Of  the  low  popular  levels  spawned  in  all  the  lands. 
But  thou,  O  Earth,  dost  much  disdain 
The  bondage  of  thy  waste  and  futile  reign. 
And  sweetly  to  the  great  compulsion  draw 
Of  God's  alone  true-msnumitting  law. 
And  Freedom,  only  which  the  wise  intend. 
To  work  thine  innate  end. 
Over  thy  vacant  counterfeit  of  death 
Broods  with  soft  urgent  breath 
Love,  that  is  child  of  Beauty  and  of  Awe  ; 
29 


From  the    To  intercleavage  of  sharp  warring  pain, 
Frbem  ^^  °^ contending  chaos  come  again. 

Thou  wak'st,  O  Earth, 

And  work' St  from  change  to  change  and  birth  to  birth 

Creation  old  as  hope,  and  new  as  sight ; 

For  meed  of  toil  not  vain. 

Hearing  once  more  the  primal  fiat  toll  :  — 

*  Let  there  be  light !  ' 

And  there  is  light ! 

Light  flagrant,  manifest  ; 

Light  to  the  zenith,  light  from  pole  to  pole  ; 

Light  from  the  East  that  waxeth  to  the  West, 

And  with  its  puissant  goings-torth 

Encroaches  on  the  South  and  on  the  North  ; 

And  with  its  great  approaches  does  prevail 

Upon  the  sullen  fastness  of  the  height. 

And  summoning  its  levied  power 

Crescent  and  confident  through  the  crescent  hour. 

Goes  down  with  laughters  on  the  subject  vale. 

Light  flagrant,  manifest  ; 

Light  to  the  sentient  closeness  of  the  breast. 

Light  to  the  secret  chambers  of  the  brain  ! 

And  thou  up-floatest,  warm,  and  newly-bathed. 

Earth,  through  delicious  air. 

And  with  thine  own  apparent  beauties  swathed. 

Wringing  the  waters  from  thine  arborous  hair  ; 

That  all  men's  hearts,  which  do  behold  and  see. 

Grow  weak  with  their  exceeding  much  desire. 

And  turn  to  thee  on  fire. 

Enamoured  with  their  utter  wish  of  thee, 

Anadyomene  ! 

What  vine-outquickening  life  all  creatures  sup. 

Feel,  for  the  air  within  its  sapphire  cup 

How  it  does  leap,  and  twinkle  headily  ! 

Feel,  for  Earth's  bosom  pants,  and  heaves  her  scarfing 
sea  J 

30 


And  round  and  round  in  bacchanal  rout  reel  the  swift  From  the 
spheres  intemperably  !  F^''b  ""^ 

My  little- worlded  self!   the  shadows  pass 

In  this  thy  sister-world,  as  in  a  glass. 

Of  all  processions  that  revolve  in  thee  : 

Not  only  of  cyclic  Man 

Thou  here  discern'st  the  plan. 

Not  only  of  cyclic  Man,  but  of  the  cyclic  Me. 

Not  solely  of  Mortality's  great  years 

The  reflex  just  appears. 

But  thine  own  bosom's  year,  still  circling  round 

In  ample  and  in  ampler  gyre 

Toward  the  far  completion,  wherewith  crowned. 

Love  unconsumed  shall  chant  in  his  own  furnace-fire. 

How  many  trampled  and  deciduous  joys 

Enrich  thy  soul  for  joys  deciduous  still. 

Before  the  distance  shall  fulfil 

Cyclic  unrest  with  solemn  equipoise  ! 

Happiness  is  the  shadow  of  things  past. 

Which  fools  still  take  for  that  which  is  to  be  ! 

And  not  all  foolishly  : 

For  all  the  past,  read  true,  is  prophecy. 

And  all  the  firsts  are  hauntings  of  some  Last, 

And  all  the  springs  are  flash-lights  of  one  Spring. 

Then  leaf,  and  flower,  and  falless  fruit 

Shall  hang  together  on  the  unyellowing  bough  ; 

And  silence  shall  be  Music  mute 

For  her  surcharged  heart.      Hush  thou  ! 

These    things  are    far   too    sure   that   thou    should'st 

dream 
Thereof,  lest  they  appear  as  things  that  seem. 

Shade  within  shade  !   for  deeper  in  «ihe  glass 
Now  other  imaged  meanings  pass ; 
31 


From  the     And  as  the  man,  the  poet  there  is  read. 
^'orebeL      Winter  with  me,  alack  ! 

Winter  on  every  hand  I  find : 

Soul,  brain,  and  pulses  dead  ; 

The  mind  no  further  by  the  warm  sense  fed. 

The  soul  weak-stirring  in  the  arid  mind. 

More  tearless-weak  to  flash  itself  abroad 

Than  the  earth's  life  beneath  the  frost-scorched  sod. 

My  lips  have  drought,  and  crack, 

Bylaving  music  long  unvisited. 

Beneath  the  austere  and  macerating  rime 

Draws  back  constricted  in  its  icy  urns 

The  genial  flame  of  Earth,  and  there 

With  torment  and  with  tension  does  prepare 

The  lush  disclosures  of  the  vernal  time. 

All  joys  draw  inward  to  their  icy  urns. 

Tormented  by  constraining  rime. 

And  there 

With  undelight  and  throe  prepare' 

The  bounteous  efflux  of  the  vernal  time. 

Nor  less  beneath  compulsive  Law 

Rebuked  draw 

The  numbed  musics  back  upon  my  heart ; 

Whose  yet-triumphant  course  I  know 

And  prevalent  pulses  forth  shall  start. 

Like  cataracts  that  with  thunderous  hoof  charge  the 
disbanding  snow. 

All  power  is  bound 

In  quickening  refusal  so  ; 

And  silence  is  the  lair  of  sound  ; 

In  act  its  impulse  to  deliver. 

With  fluctuance  and  quiver 

The  endeavouring  thew  grows  rigid  ; 

Strong 

From  its  retracted  coil  strikes  the  resilient  song. 

32 


Giver  of  spring.  Prom  the 

And  song,  and  every  young  new  thing  !  ^'^''j,  °^ 

Thou  only  seest  in  me,  so  stripped  and  bare. 
The  lyric  secret  waiting  to  be  born. 
The  patient  term  allowed 
Before  it  stretch  and  flutteringly  unfold 
Its  rumpled  webs  of  amethyst-freaked,  diaphanous  gold. 
And  what  hard  task  abstracts  me  from  delight. 
Filling  with  hopeless  hope  and  dear  despair 
The  still-born  day  and  parched  fields  of  night. 
That  my  old  way  of  song,  no  longer  fair. 
For  lack  of  serene  care. 
Is  grown  a  stony  and  a  weed-choked  plot. 
Thou  only  know'st  aright. 
Thou  only  know'st,  for  I  know  not. 
How  many  songs  must  die  that  this  may  live  ! 
And  shall  this  most  rash  hope  and  fugitive. 
Fulfilled  with  beauty  and  with  might 
In  days  whose  feet  are  rumorous  on  the  air. 
Make  me  forget  to  grieve 

For  songs  which  might  have  been,  nor  ever  were? 
Stern  the  denial,  the  travail  slow. 
The  struggling  wall  will  scantly  grow  : 
And  though  with  that  dread  rite  of  sacrifice 
Ordained  for  during  edifice. 
How  long,  how  long  ago  ! 
Into  that  wall  which  will  not  thrive 
I  build  myself  alive. 

Ah,  who  shall  tell  me  will  the  wall  uprise  ? 
Thou  wilt  not  tell  me,  who  dost  only  know  ! 
Yet  still  in  mind  I  keep. 

He  which  observes  the  wind  shall  hardly  sow. 
He  which  regards  the  clouds  shall  hardly  reap. 
Thine  ancient  way  !  I  give. 
Nor  wit  if  I  receive  ; 

Risk  all,  who  all  would  gain  :   and  blindly.     Be  it  so. 
33  3 


From  the     '  And  blindly,'  said  I  ?  —  No  ! 
FlfeLlig    That  saying  I  unsay  :_  the  wings 

Hear  I  not  in  prsvenient  winnowings 

Of  coming  songs,  that  lift  my  hair  and  stir  it  ? 

What  winds  with  music  wet  do  the  sweet  storm  fore- 
show ! 

Utter  stagnation 

Is  the  solstitial  slumber  of  the  spirit. 

The  blear  and  blank  negation  of  all  life  -. 

But  these  sharp  questionings  mean  strife,  and  strife 

Is  the  negation  of  negation. 

The  thing  from  which  I  turn  my  troubled  look. 

Fearing  the  gods'  rebuke  ; 

That  perturbation  putting  glory  on. 

As  is  the  golden  vortex  in  the  West 

Over  the  foundered  sun  ; 

That  —  but  low  breathe  it,  lest  the  Nemesis 

Unchild  me,  vaunting  this  — 

Is  bliss,  the  hid,  hugged,  swaddled  bliss  ! 

O  youngling  Joy  carest  ! 

That  on  my  now  lirst-mothered  breast 

Pliest  the  strange  wonder  of  thine  infant  lip. 

What  this  aghast  surprise  of  keenest  panging, 

Wherefrom  I  blench,  and  cry  thy  soft  mouth  rest  ? 

Ah  hold,  withhold,  and  let  the  sweet  mouth  slip ! 

So,  with  such  pain,  recoils  the  woolly  dam. 

Unused,  affrighted,  from  her  yeanling  lamb  : 

I,  one  with  her  in  cruel  fellowship. 

Marvel  what  unmaternal  thing  I  am. 

Nature,  enough  !   within  thy  glass 

Too  many  and  too  stern  the  shadows  pass. 

In  this  delighted  season,  flaming 

For  thy  resurrection-feast. 

Ah,  more  I  think  the  long  ensepulture  cold. 

Than  stony  winter  rolled 

34 


From  the  unsealed  mouth  of  the  holy  East;  From  the 

The  snowdrop's  saintly  stoles  less  heed  f     bin 

Than  the  snow-cloistered  penance  of  the  seed. 

'T  is  the  weak  flesh  reclaiming 

Against  the  ordinance 

Which  yet  for  just  the  accepting  spirit  scans. 

Earth  waits,  and  patient  heaven. 

Self-bonded  God  doth  wait 

Thrice-promulgated  bans 

Of  his  fair  nuptial-date. 

And  power  is  man's. 

With  that  great  word  of  *  wait,' 

To  still  the  sea  of  tears. 

And  shake  the  iron  heart  of  Fate. 

In  that  one  word  is  strong 

An  else,  alas,  much-mortal  song  ; 

With  sight  to  pass  the  frontier  of  all  spheres. 

And  voice  which  does  my  sight  such  wrong. 

Not  without  fortitude  I  wait 
The  dark  majestical  ensuit 
Of  destiny,  nor  peevish  rate 
Calm-knowledged  Fate. 

I,  that  no  part  have  in  the  time's  bragged  way. 
And  its  loud  bruit ; 
I,  in  this  house  so  rifted,  marred. 
So  ill  to  live  in,  hard  to  leave  ; 
I,  so  star-weary,  over-warred. 
That  have  no  joy  in  this  your  day  — 
Rather  foul  fume  englutting,  that  of  day 
Confounds  all  ray  — 
But  only  stand  aside  and  grieve  ; 
I  yet  have  sight  beyond  the  smoke. 
And  kiss  the  gods'  feet,  though  they  wreak 
Upon  me  stroke  and  again  stroke  ; 
And  this  my  seeing  is  not  weak. 
35 


From  the     The  Woman  I  behold,  whose  vision  seek 
Forcbeine    ^^^  ^X^^  ^"'^  know  not  ;  t'ward  whom  climb 

The  steps  o'  the  world,  and  beats  all  wing  of  rhyme. 

And  knows  not ;   'twixt  the  sun  and  moon 

Her  inexpressible  front  enstarred 

Tempers  the  wrangling  spheres  to  tune ; 

Their  divergent  harmonies 

Concluded  in  the  concord  of  her  eyes. 

And  vestal  dances  of  her  glad  regard. 

I  see,  which  fretteth  with  surmise 

Much  heads  grown  unsagacious-grey. 

The  slow  aim  of  wise-hearted  Time, 

Which  folded  cycles  within  cycles  cloak  : 

We  pass,  we  pass,  we  pass  ;    this  does  not  pass  away. 

But  holds  the   furrowing   earth   still  harnessed  to  its 
yoke. 

The  stars  still  write  their  golden  purposes 

On  heaven's  high  palimpsest,  and  no  man  sees. 

Nor  any  therein  Daniel ;  I  do  hear 

From  the  revolving  year 

A  voice  which  cries : 

'  All  dies  ; 

Lo,  how  all  dies  !   O  seer. 

And  all  things  too  arise  : 

All  dies,  and  all  is  born  ; 

But  each  resurgent  morn,  behold,  more  near  the  Perfect 
Morn.' 

Firm  is  the  man,  and  set  beyond  the  cast 
Of  Fortune's  game,  and  the  iniquitous  hour. 
Whose  salcon  soul  sits  fast. 
And  not  intends  her  high  sagacious  tour 
Or  ere  the  quarry  sighted  ;   who  looks  past 
To  slow  much  sweet  from  little  instant  sour. 
And  in  the  first  does  always  see  the  last. 

36 


ANY   SAINT 


Too  high  that  1,  o'erbold 
!^-c^  Weak  one. 

Should  lean  thereon. 

But  He  a  little  hath 
Declined  His  stately  path. 
And  my 
Feet  set  more  high  ; 

That  the  slack  arm  may  reach 
His  shoulder,  and  faint  speech 
Stir 
His  unvvithering  hair. 

And  bolder  now  and  bolder 
I  lean  upon  that  shoulder. 
So  dear 
He  is  and  near  : 

And  with  His  aureole 
The  tresses  of  my  soul 
Are  blent 
In  wished  content. 

Yea,  this  too  gende  Lover 
Hath  flattering  words  to  move  hef 
To  pride 
By  His  sweet  side. 

Ah,  Love  !  somewhat  let  be  ! 
Lest  my  humility 

Grow  weak 
When  thou  dost  speak  ! 


37 


Any  Saint  Rebate  thy  tender  suit. 

Lest  to  herself  impute 
Some  worth 
Thy  bride  of  earth  ! 

A  maid  too  easily 
Conceits  herself  to  be 

Those  things 
Her  lover  sings ; 

And  being  straitly  wooed. 
Believes  herself  the  Good 
And  Fair 
He  seeks  in  her. 

Turn  something  of  Thy  look. 
And  fear  me  with  rebuke. 
That  I 
May  timorously 

Take  tremors  in  Thy  arms 
And  with  contrived  charms 
Allure 
A  love  unsure. 

Not  to  me,  not  to  me, 
Builded  so  flawfully, 
O  God, 
Thy  humbling  laud  ! 

Not  to  this  man,  but  Man,  — 
Universe  in  a  span  ; 
Point 
Of  the  spheres  conjoint  ; 

38 


In  whom  eternally  Any  Saint 

Thou,  Light,  dost  focus  Thee  !  — 
Didst  pave 
The  way  o'  the  wave. 

Rivet  with  stars  the  Heaven, 
For  causeways  to  Thy  driven 
Car 
In  its  coming  far 

Unto  him,  only  him  ! 
In  Thy  deific  whim 

Didst  bound 
Thy  works'  great  round 

In  this  small  ring  of  flesh  ; 
The  sky's  gold-knotted  mesh 
Thy  wrist 
Did  only  twist 

To  take  him  in  that  net.  — 
Man  !  swinging-wicket  set 
Between 
The  Unseen  and  Seen, 

Lo,  God's  two  worlds  immense. 
Of  spirit  and  of  sense. 
Wed 
In  this  narrow  bed  ; 

Yea,  and  the  midge's  hymn 
Answers  the  seraphim 
Athwart 
Thy  body's  court  ! 


39 


Any  Saint  Great  arm-fellow  of  God  ! 

To  the  ancestral  clod 
Kin, 
And  to  cherubin  ; 

Bread  predilectedly 
O'  the  worm  and  Deity  ! 
Hark, 
O  God's  clay-sealed  Ark, 

To  praise  that  fits  thee,  clear 
To  the  ear  within  the  ear 
But  dense 
To  clay-sealed  sense. 

All  the  Omnific  made 
When  in  a  word  he  said, 
(Mystery  !) 
He  uttered  tbee; 

Thee  His  great  utterance  bore, 
O  secret  metaphor 
Of  what 
Thou  dream' st  no  jot ! 

Cosmic  metonymy ! 
Weak  world-unshuttering  key 
One 
Seal  of  Solomon  ! 

Trope  that  itself  not  scans 
Its  huge  significance. 
Which  tries 
Cherubic  eyes. 

40 


Primer  where  the  angels  all  ^^y  Saint 

God's  grammar  spell  in  small. 
Nor  spell 
The  highest  too  well. 

Point  for  the  great  descants 
Of  starry  disputants  ; 
Equation 
Of  creation. 

Thou  meaning,  couldst  thou  see. 
Of  all  which  dafteth  thee  ; 
So  plain. 
It  mocks  thy  pain  ; 

Stone  of  the  Law  indeed. 
Thine  own  self  couldst  thou  read  ; 
Thy  bliss 
Within  thee  is. 

Compost  of  Heaven  and  mire. 
Slow  foot  and  swift  desire  ! 
Lo, 
To  have  Yes,  choose  No  ; 

Gird,  and  thou  shalt  unbind  ; 
Seek  not,  and  thou  shalt  find  ; 
To  eat. 
Deny  thy  meat ; 

And  thou  shalt  be  fulfilled 
With  all  sweet  things  unwilled  ? 
So  best 
God  loves  to  jest 

4,1 


^ny  Saint  With  children  small  —  a  freak 

Of  heavenly  hide-and-seek 
Fit 
For  thy  wayward  wit. 

Who  art  thyself  a  thing 
Of  whim  and  wavering  ; 
Free 
When  His  wings  pen  thee; 

Sole  fully  blest,  to  feel 
God  whistle  thee  at  heel ; 
Drunk  up 
As  a  dew-drop. 

When  He  bends  down,  sun-wise 
Intemperable  eyes  ; 

Most  proud. 
When  utterly  bowed, 

To  feel  thyself  and  be 
His  dear  nonentity  — 
Caught 
Beyond  human  thought 

In  the  thunder-spout  of  Him, 
Until  thy  being  dim. 
And  be 
Dead  deathlessly. 

Stoop,  stoop  ;   for  thou  dost  fear 
The  nettle's  wrathful  spear. 
So  slight 
Art  thou  of  might  ! 

42 


Rise  ;   for  Heaven  hath  no  frown  Any  Saint 

When  thou  to  thee  pluck'st  down. 
Strong  clod  ! 
The  neck  of  God. 


ASSUMPTA   MARIA 

*  Thou  need'st  not  sing  new  songs,  but  say  the 
OLD.'  —  Cowley. 

)ORTALS,  that  behold  a  Woman, 
Rising  'twixt  the  Moon  and  Sun  ; 

[Who  am  I  the  heavens  assume  ?  an 
All  am  I,  and  I  am  one. 

Multitudinous  ascend  I, 

Dreadful  as  a  battle  arrayed. 
For  I  bear  you  whither  tend  I  ; 

Ye  are  I  :   be  undismayed  ! 
I,  the  Ark  that  for  the  graven 

Tables  of  the  Law  was  made ; 
Man's  own  heart  was  one,  one  Heaven 
Both  within  my  womb  were  laid. 
For  there  Anteros  with  Eros 

Heaven  with  man  conjoined  was,  — 
Twin-stone  of  the  Law,  Ischyros, 
Agios  Athanatos. 

I,  the  flesh-girt  Paradises 

Gardenered  by  the  Adam  new, 
Daintied  o'er  with  sweet  devices 

Which  He  loveth,  for  He  grew. 
I,  the  boundless  strict  savannah 

Which  God's  leaping  feet  go  through  ; 
I,  the  heaven  whence  the  Manna, 

Weary  Israel,  slid  on  you  ! 
43 


Assumfta  He  the  Anteros  and  Eros, 

I  the  body.  He  the  Cross ; 
He  upbeareth  me,  IschyroSy 
Agios  Athanatos  ! 


I  am  Daniel's  mystic  Mountain, 

Whence  the  mighty  stone  was  rolled  ; 
I  am  the  four  Rivers'  fountain. 

Watering  Paradise  of  old  ; 
Cloud  down-raining  the  Just  One  am, 

Danae  of  the  Shower  of  Gold  ; 
I  the  Hostel  of  the  Sun  am  ; 
He  the  Lamb,  and  I  the  Fold. 
He  the  Anteros  and  Eros, 

I  the  body.  He  the  Cross  ; 
He  is  fast  to  me,  Lchyrosy 
Agios  Athanatos! 

I,  the  presence-hall  where  Angels 

Do  enwheel  their  placed  King  — 
Even  my  thoughts  which,  without  change  else. 

Cyclic  burn  and  cyclic  sing. 
To  the  hollow  of  Heaven  transplanted, 

I  a  breathing  Eden  spring. 
Where  with  venom  all  outpanted 
Lies  the  slimed  Curse  shrivelling. 
For  the  brazen  Serpent  clear  on 

That  old  fanged  knowledge  shone  ; 
I  to  Wisdom  rise,  Ischyron, 
Agion  Athanaton  ! 

See  in  highest  heaven  pavilioned 

Now  the  maiden  Heaven  rest. 
The  many-breasted  sky  out-millioned 

By  the  splendours  of  her  vest. 

44 


Lo,  the  Ark  this  holy  tide  is  Assumpta 

The  un-handmade  Temple's  guest. 
And  the  dark  Egyptian  bride  is 

Whitely  to  the  Spouse-Heart  prest ! 
He  the  Anteros  and  Eros, 

Nail  me  to  Thee,  sweetest  Cross  ! 
He  is  fast  to  me,  Isch^ros, 
Agios  Athanatos  ! 


*  Tell  me,  tell  me,  O  Beloved, 

Where  Thou  dost  in  mid-day  feed  ! 
For  my  wanderings  are  reproved. 
And  my  heart  is  salt  with  need.' 

•  Thine  own  self  not  spellest  God  in. 

Nor  the  lisping  papyrus  reed  ? 
Follow  where  the  flocks  have  trodden. 
Follow  where  the  shepherds  lead.' 
He,  the  Anteros  and  Eros, 

Mounts  me  in  ^gyptic  car. 
Twin-yoked  ;  leading  me,  Ischyros, 
Trembling  to  the  untempted  Far. 


*  Make  me  chainlets,  silvern,  golden, 

I  that  sow  shall  surely  reap  ; 
While  as  yet  my  Spouse  is  holden 
Like  a  Lion  in  mountained  sleep.' 

*  Make  her  chainlets,  silvern,  golden. 

She  hath  sown  and  she  shall  reap  ; 
Look  up  to  the  mountains  olden. 

Whence  help  comes  with  Honed  leap.* 
By  what  gushed  the  bitter  Spear  on. 

Pain,  which  sundered,  maketh  one ; 
Crucified  to  him,  Iscbyron, 
Agion  Athanaton  ! 
45 


Asiumpta  Then  commanded  and  spake  to  me 


Maria 


He  who  framed  all  things  that  be  ; 
And  my  Maker  entered  through  me. 

In  my  tent  His  rest  took  He. 
Lo!   He  standeth.  Spouse  and  Brother; 

I  to  Him,  and  He  to  me. 
Who  upraised  me  where  my  mother 
Fell,  beneath  the  apple-tree. 

Risen  'twixt  Anteros  and  Eros, 

Blood  and  Water,  Moon  and  Sun, 
He  upbears  me.  He  Ischyros, 
I  bear  Him,  the  Athanaton  ! 


Where  is  laid  the  Lord  arisen  ? 

In  the  light  we  walk  in  gloom  ; 
Though  the  sun  has  burst  his  prison. 

We  know  not  his  biding-room. 
Tell  us  where  the  Lord  sojourneth. 

For  we  find  an  empty  tomb. 
*  Whence  He  sprung,  there  He  returneth. 
Mystic  Sun, —  the  Virgin's  Womb.' 
Hidden  Sun,  His  beams  so  near  us. 

Cloud  enpillared  as  He  was 
From  of  old,  there  He,  Ischyros, 
Waits  our  search,  Athanatos  ! 


Who  will  give  Him  me  for  brother. 

Counted  of  my  family. 
Sucking  the  sweet  breasts  of  my  Mother  ?  — 

I  His  flesh,  and  mine  is  He  ; 
To  my  Bread  myself  the  bread  is. 

And  my  Wine  doth  drink  me  :   see. 
His  left  hand  beneath  my  head  is, 

46 


His  right  hand  embraceth  me  !  Assumpta 

Sweetest  Anteros  and  Eros, 

Lo,  her  arms  He  leans  across ; 
Dead  that  we  die  not,  stooped  to  rear  us, 

Thanatos  Athanatos. 

Who  is  She,  in  candid  vesture. 

Rushing  up  from  out  the  brine  ? 
Treading  with  resilient  gesture 

Air,  and  with  that  Cup  divine  ? 
She  in  us  and  we  in  her  are. 

Beating  Godward  :  all  that  pine, 
Lo,  a  wonder  and  a  terror ! 

The  Sun  hath  blushed  the  Sea  to  Wine  ! 
He  the  Anteros  and  Eros, 

She  the  Bride  and  Spirit  ;   for 

Now  the  days  of  promise  near  us. 

And  the  Sea  shall  be  no  more. 

Open  wide  thy  gates,  O  Virgin, 

That  the  King  may  enter  thee  ! 

At  all  gates  the  clangours  gurge  in, 

God's  paludament  lightens,  see! 

Camp  of  Angels  !     Well  we  even 

Of  this  thing  may  doubtful  be,  — 
If  thou  art  assumed  to  Heaven, 
Or  is  Heaven  assumed  to  thee  ! 

Consummatum.     Christ  the  promised. 

Thy  maiden  realm  is  won,  O  Strong  ! 
Since  to  such  sweet  Kingdom  comest. 
Remember  me,  poor  Thief  of  Song  ! 

Cadent  fails  the  stars  along  :  — 
Mortals,  that  behold  a  zvoman 

Rishtg  ^  twixt  the  Moon  and  Sun ; 
Who  am  I  the  heavens  assume  ?  an 
All  am  /,  and  I  am  one. 
47 


THE   AFTER  WOMAN 

'AUGHTER  of  the  ancient  Eve, 

vWe  know  the  gifts  ye  gave  —  and  give. 

|Who  knows  the  gifts  which  you  shall  give. 

Daughter  of  the  newer  Eve  ? 

You,  if  my  soul  be  augur,  you 

Shall  —  O  what  shall  you  not.  Sweet,  do  ? 

The  celestial  traitress  play. 

And  all  mankind  to  bliss  betray  ; 

With  sacrosanct  cajoleries 

And  starry  treachery  of  your  eyes. 

Tempt  us  back  to  Paradise ! 

Make  heavenly  trespass  ;  —  ay,  press  in 

Where  faint  the  fledge-foot  seraphin. 

Blest  Fool  !     Be  ensign  of  our  wars. 

And  shame  us  all  to  warriors  ! 

Unbanner  your  bright  locks,  —  advance. 

Girl,  their  gilded  puissance, 

I'  the  myst'  .  vaward,  and  draw  on 

After  the  lovely  gonfalon 

Us  to  out-folly  the  excess 

Of  your  sweet  foolhardiness  ; 

To  adventure  like  intense 

Assault  against  Omnipotence  ! 

Give  me  song,  as  She  is,  new. 

Earth  should  turn  in  time  thereto  ! 

New,  and  new,  and  thrice  so  new. 

All  old  sweets.  New  Sweet,  meant  you  ! 

Fair,  I  had  a  dream  of  thee. 

When  my  young  heart  beat  prophecy. 

And  in  apparition  elate 

Thy  little  breasts  knew  waxed  great. 

Sister  of  the  Canticle, 

And  thee  for  God  grown  marriageable. 

How  my  desire  desired  your  day, 

48 


That,  wheeled  in  rumour  on  its  way,  T!}"  ^^^"^ 

Shook  me  thus  with  presentience  !     Then 

Eden's  lopped  tree  shall  shoot  again  : 

For  who  Christ's  eyes  shall  miss,  with  those 

Eyes  for  evident  nuncios  ? 

Or  who  be  tardy  to  His  call 

In  your  accents  augural  ? 

Who  shall  not  feel  the  Heavens  hid 

Impend,  at  tremble  of  your  lid. 

And  divine  advent  shine  avowed 

Under  that  dim  and  lucid  cloud  ; 

Yea,  'fore  the  silver  apocalypse 

Fail,  at  the  unsealing  of  your  lips? 

When  to  love  j(?«  is  (O  Christ's  Spouse!) 

To  love  the  beauty  of  His  house  ; 

Then  come  the  Isaian  days  ;   the  old 

Shall  dream  ;   and  our  young  men  behold 

Vision  —  yea,  the  vision  of  Thabor  mount. 

Which  none  to  other  shall  recount. 

Because  in  all  men's  hearts  shall  be 

The  seeing  and  the  prophecy. 

For  ended  is  the  Mystery  Play, 

When  Christ  is  life,  and  you  the  way  ; 

When  Egypt's  spoils  are  Israel's  right. 

And  Day  fulfils  the  married  arms  of  Night. 

But  here  my  lips  are  still. 

Until 

You  and  the  hour  shall  be  revealed. 

This  song  is  sung  and  sung  not,  and  its  words  are  sealed. 


GRACE   OF   THE   WAY 

)Y  brother  ! '  spake  she  to  the  sun  ; 


The  kindred  kisses  of  the  stars 
(Were  hers  ;   her  feet  were  set  upon 

The  moon.    If  slumber  solved  the  bars 
49  4 


Grace  of  Of  scnsc.  Of  scnsc  transp'icuous  grown 

the  Way  Fulfilled  seeing  unto  sight, 

I  know  not ;  nor  if  't  was  my  own 
Ingathered  self  that  made  her  night. 

The  windy  trammel  of  her  dress. 

Her  blown  locks,  took  my  soul  in  mesh ; 

God's  breath  they  spake,  with  visibleness 
That  stirred  the  raiment  of  her  flesh: 

And  sensible,  as  her  blown  locks  were. 
Beyond  the  precincts  of  her  form 

I  felt  the  woman  flow  from  her  — 
A  calm  of  intempestuous  storm. 

I  failed  against  the  affluent  tide ; 

Out  of  this  abject  earth  of  me 
I  was  translated  and  enskied 

Into  the  heavenly-regioned  She. 

Now  of  that  vision  I  bereaven 

This  knowledge  keep,  that  may  not  dim  : 

Short  arm  needs  man  to  reach  to  Heaven, 
So  ready  is  Heaven  to  stoop  to  him. 

Which  sets,  to  measure  of  man's  feet. 
No  alien  Tree  for  try  sting-place  ; 

And  who  can  read,  may  read  the  sweet 
Direction  in  his  Lady's  face. 

And  pass  and  pass  the  daily  crowd, 
Unwares,  occulted  Paradise  ; 

Love  the  lost  plot  cries  silver-loud. 
Nor  any  know  the  tongue  he  cries. 

SO 


The  light  is  in  the  darkness,  and  Grace  of 

The  darkness  doth  not  comprehend  :  '^ 

God  hath  no  haste  ;  and  God's  sons  stand 
Yet  a  Day,  tarrying  for  tlie  end. 

Dishonoured  Rahab  still  hath  hid. 

Yea  still,  within  her  house  of  shame. 
The  messengers  by  Jesus  bid 

Forerun  the  coming  of  His  Name. 

The  Word  was  flesh,  and  crucified. 

From  the  beginning,  and  blasphemed  : 
Its  profaned  raiment  men  divide. 

Damned  by  what,  reverenced,  had  redeemed. 

Thy  Lady,  was  thy  heart  not  blind. 

One  hour  gave  to  thy  witless  trust 
The  key  thou  go'st  about  to  find  ; 

And  thou  hast  dropped  it  in  the  dust. 

Of  her,  the  Way's  one  mortal  grace. 

Own,  save  thy  seeing  be  all  forgot. 
That  truly,  God  was  in  this  place. 

And  thou,  unblessed,  knew'st  it  not. 

But  some  have  eyes,  and  will  not  see  ; 

And  some  would  see,  and  have  not  eyes ; 
And  fail  the  tryst,  yet  find  the  Tree, 

And  take  the  lesson  for  the  prize. 


RETROSPECT 

I  LAS,  and  I  have  sung 

I  Much  song  of  matters  vain, 

)And  a  heaven-sweetened  tongue 

Turned  to  unprofiting  strain 

51 


Retrospect    Of  vacant  things,  which  though 

Even  so  they  be,  and  throughly  so. 
It  is  no  boot  at  all  for  thee  to  know. 
But  babble  and  false  pain. 


What  profit  if  the  sun 

Put  forth  his  radiant  thews. 

And  on  his  circuit  run. 

Even  after  my  device,  to  this  and  to  that  use  ; 

And  the  true  Orient,  Christ, 

Make  not  His  cloud  of  thee  ? 

I  have  sung  vanity. 

And  nothing  well  devised. 

And  though  the  cry  of  stars 

Give  tongue  before  his  way 

Goldenly  as  I  say. 

And  each  from  wide  Saturnus  to  hot  Mars 

He  calleth  by  its  name. 

Lest  that  its  bright  feet  stray  ; 

And  thou  have  lore  of  all. 

But  to  thine  own  Sun's  call 

Thy  path  disorbed  hast  never  wit  to  tame ; 

It  profits  not  withal. 

And  my  rede  is  but  lame. 

Only  that,  'mid  vain  vaunt 
Of  wisdom  ignorant, 
A  little  kiss  upon  the  feet  of  Love 
My  hasty  verse  has  stayed 
Sometimes  a  space  to  plant ; 
It  has  not  wholly  strayed. 

Not  wholly  missed  near  sweet,  fanning  proud  plumes 
above. 

52 


Therefore  I  do  repent  Retrospect 

That  with  religion  vain. 

And  misconceived  pain, 

I  have  my  music  bent 

To  waste  on  bootless  things  its  skiey-gendered  rain  : 

Yet  shall  a  wiser  day 

Fulfil  more  heavenly  way. 

And  with  approved  music  clear  this  slip, 

I  trust  in  God  most  sweet ; 

Meantime  the  silent  lip. 

Meantime  the  climbing  feet. 


53 


A    NARROW   VESSEL 

Being   a   little    dramatic    sequence   on    the    aspect    of 

primitive  girl-nature  towards  a  love  beyond 

its  capacities 


55 


A    GIRL'S    SIN:  I. —In  her  Eyes 

(ROSS  child  !  red,  and  frowning  so  ? 

*  I,  the  day  just  over, 
;\Gave  a  lock  of  hair  to  —  no  ! 

How  dare  you  say,  my  lover  ? ' 

He  asked  you  ?  —  Let  me  understand  ; 

Come,  child,  let  me  sound  it  ! 
'  Of  course,  he  would  have  asked  it,  and  — 

And  so  —  somehow  —  he  —  found  it. 

*  He  told  it  out  with  great  loud  eyes  — 
Men  have  such  little  wit ! 

His  sin  I  ever  will  chastise 
Because  I  gave  him  it. 

*  Shameless  in  me  the  gift,  alas ! 
In  him  his  open  bliss  : 

But  for  the  privilege  he  has 
A  thousand  he  shall  miss  ! 

*  His  eyes,  where  once  I  dreadless  laughed. 
Call  up  a  burning  blot  : 

I  hate  him,  for  his  shameful  craft 
That  asked  by  asking  not ! ' 

Luckless  boy!  and  all  for  hair 

He  never  asked,  you  said  ? 
'  Not  just  —  but  then  he  gazed  —  I  swear 

He  gazed  it  from  my  head ! 

*  His  silence  on  my  cheek  like  breath 
I  felt  in  subtle  way  ; 

More  sweet  than  aught  another  saith 
Was  what  he  did  not  say. 
57 


A  Girl's  'He'll  think  me  vanquished,  for  this  lapse. 


Sin 


Who  should  be  above  him  ; 
Perhaps  he'll  think  me  light;  perhaps  — 
Perhaps  he  '11  think  I  —  love  him  ! 

*  Are  his  eyes  conscious  and  elate, 

I  hate  him  that  I  blush  ; 
Or  are  they  innocent,  still  I  hate  — 
They  mean  a  thing  's  to  hush. 

*  Before  he  nought  amiss  could  do. 

Now  all  things  show  amiss  ; 
'T  was  all  my  fault,  I  know  that  true. 
But  all  my  fault  was  his. 

*  I  hate  him  for  his  mute  distress, 

'T  is  insult  he  should  care  ! 
Because  my  heart's  all  humbleness. 
All  pride  is  in  my  air. 

*  With  him,  each  favour  that  I  do 

Is  bold  suit's  hallowing  text  ; 
Each  gift  a  bastion  levelled,  to 
The  next  one  and  the  next. 

*  Each  wish  whose  grant  may  him  befall 

Is  clogged  by  those  withstood  ; 
He  trembles,  hoping  one  means  all. 
And  I,  lest  perhaps  it  should. 

*  Behind  me  piecemeal  gifts  I  cast. 

My  fleeing  self  to  save  ; 
And  that's  the  thing  must  go  at  last. 
For  that 's  the  thing  he  'd  have. 


S8 


Sin 


*  My  lock  the  enforced  steel  did  grate  ■^.  Cdrl's 

To  cut ;  its  root-thrills  came 
Down  to  my  bosom.      It  might  sate 
His  lust  for  my  poor  shame ! 

*  His  sifted  dainty  this  should  be 

For  a  score  ambrosial  years  ! 
But  his  too  much  humility 
Alarums  me  with  fears. 

*  My  gracious  grace  a  breach  he  counts 

For  graceless  escalade  ; 
And,  though  he's  silent  ere  he  mounts. 
My  watch  is  not  betrayed. 

*  My  heart  hides  from  my  soul  he  's  sweet : 

Ah  dread,  if  he  divine  ! 
One  touch,  I  might  fall  at  his  feet. 
And  he  might  rise  from  mine. 

*  To  hear  him  praise  my  eyes'  brown  gleams 

Was  native,  safe  delight ; 
But  now  it  usurpation  seems. 
Because  I  've  given  him  right. 

*  Before  I  'd  have  him  not  remove. 

Now  would  not  have  him  near ; 
With  sacrifice  I  called  on  Love, 
And  the  apparition  's  Fear.' 

Foolish  to  give  it !  —  * '  Tvvas  my  whim. 

When  he  might  parted  be. 
To  think  that  I  should  stay  by  him 

In  a  little  piece  of  me. 
59 


A  Girfs  t  He  always  said  my  hair  was  soft  — 


Sin 


What  touches  he  will  steal  ! 
Each  touch  and  look  (and  he  '11  look  oft) 
I  almost  thought  I  'd  feel. 

*  And  then,  when  first  he  saw  the  hair. 

To  think  his  dear  amazement ! 

As  if  he  wished  from  skies  a  star. 

And  found  it  in  his  casement. 

*  He  'd  kiss  the  lock  —  and  I  had  toyed 

With  dreamed  delight  of  this  : 
But  ah,  in  proof,  delight  was  void  — 
I  could  not  see  his  kiss !  ' 

So,  fond  one,  half  this  agony 

Were  spared,  which  my  hand  hushes. 
Could  you  have  played.  Sweet,  the  sweet  spy. 

And  blushed  not  for  your  blushes  ! 


A   GIRL'S    SIN:  II. —In  his  Eyes 

?AN  I  forget  her  cruelty 

>Who,  brown  miracle,  gave  you  me? 

>Or  with  unmoisted  eyes  think  on 
The  proud  surrender  overgone, 
(Lovvlihead  in  haughty  dress). 
Of  the  tender  tyranness  ? 
And  ere  thou  for  my  joy  was  given. 
How  rough  the  road  to  that  blest  heaven! 
With  what  pangs  I  fore-expiated 
Thy  cold  outlawry  from  her  head  ; 
How  was  I  trampled  and  brought  low. 
Because  her  virgin  neck  was  so  ; 

60 


How  thralled  beneath  the  jealous  state  ■^  Girts 

Sift 

She  stood  at  point  to  abdicate  ; 

How  sacrificed,  before  to  me 

She  sacrificed  her  pride  and  thee  ; 

How  did  she,  struggling  to  abase 

Herself  to  do  me  strange,  sweet  grace. 

Enforce  unwitting  me  to  share 

Her  throes  and  abjectness  with  her  ; 

Thence  heightening  that  hour  when  her  lover 

Her  grace,  with  trembling,  should  discover. 

And  in  adoring  trouble  be 

Humbled  at  her  humility! 

And  with  what  pitilessness  was  I 

After  slain,  to  pacify 

The  uneasy  manes  of  her  shame. 

Her  haunting  blushes  !  —  Mine  the  blame  : 

What  fair  injustice  did  I  rue 

For  what  I  —  did  not  tempt  her  to  ? 

Nor  aught  the  judging  maid  might  win 

Me  to  assoil  from  i>cr  sweet  sin. 

But  nought  were  extreme  punishment 

For  that  beyond-divine  content. 

When  my  with-thee-first-giddied  eyes 

Stooped  ere  their  due  on  Paradise  ! 

O  hour  of  consternating  bliss 

When  I  heavened  me  in  thy  kiss ; 

Thy  softness  (daring  overmuch  !) 

Profaned  with  my  licensed  touch  ; 

Worshipped,  with  tears,  on  happy  knee. 

Her  doubt,  her  trust,  her  shyness  free. 

Her  timorous  audacity ! 


6i 


LOVE   DECLARED 

M LOOKED,  she  drooped,  and  neither  spake, 
and  cold. 
We  stood,  how  unlike  all  forecasted  thought 
Of  that  desired  minute  !     Then  I  leaned 
Doubting  ;  whereat  she  lifted  —  oh,  brave  eyes 
Unfrighted  :   forward  like  a  wind-blown  flame 
Came  bosom  and  mouth  to  mine  ! 

That  falling  kiss 
Touching  long-laid  expectance,  all  went  up 
Suddenly  into  passion ;  yea,  the  night 
Caught,  blazed,  and  wrapt  us  round  in  vibrant  fire. 

Time's  beating  wing  subsided,  and  the  winds 
Caught  up  their  breathing,  and  the  world's  great  pulse 
Stayed  in  mid-throb,  and  the  wild  train  of  life 
Reeled  by,  and  left  us  stranded  on  a  hush. 
This  moment  is  a  statue  unto  Love 
Carved  from  a  fair  white  silence. 

Lo,  he  stands 
Within  us  —  are  we  not  one  now,  one,  one  roof. 
His  roof,  and  the  partition  of  weak  flesh 
Gone  down  before  him,  and  no  more,  for  ever  ?  — 
Stands  like  a  bird  new-lit,  and  as  he  lit. 
Poised  in  our  quiet  being  ;  only,  only 
Within  our  shaken  hearts  the  air  of  passion. 
Cleft  by  his  sudden  coming,  eddies  still 
And  whirs  round  his  enchanted  movelessness. 

A  film  of  trance  between  two  stirrings  !     Lo, 

It  bursts  ;  yet  dream's  snapped  links  cling  round  the 

limbs 
Of  waking  :   like  a  running  evening  stream 
Which  no  man  hears,  or  sees,  or  knows  to  run, 
(Glazed  with  dim  quiet),  save  that  there  the  moon 

6? 


Is  shattered  to  a  creamy  flicker  of  flame.  Love 

Our  eyes'  sweet  trouble  were  hid,  save  that  the  ^•'c^ared 

love 
Trembles  a  little  on  their  impassioned  calms. 


THE   WAY   OF   A    MAID 

(^^q^HE  lover  whose  soul  shaken  is 

}In  some  decuman  billow  of  bliss, 
.Who  feels  his  gradual- wading  feet 
Sink  in  some  sudden  hollow  of  sweet. 
And  'mid  love's  used  converse  comes 
Sharp  on  a  mood  which  all  joy  sums  — 
An  instant's  fine  compendium  of 
The  liberal-leaved  writ  of  love  ; 
His  abashed  pulses  beating  thick 
At  the  exigent  joy  and  quick. 
Is  dumbed,  by  aiming  utterance  great 
Up  to  the  miracle  of  his  fate. 
The  wise  girl,  such  Icarian  fall 
Saved  by  her  confidence  that  she  's  small,  — 
As  what  no  kindred  word  will  fit 
Is  uttered  best  by  opposite. 
Love  in  the  tongue  of  hate  exprest, 
And  deepest  anguish  in  a  jest,  — 
Feeling  the  infinite  must  be 
Best  said  by  triviality. 
Speaks,  where  expression  bates  its  wings. 
Just  happy,  alien,  little  things  ; 
What  of  all  words  is  in  excess 
Implies  in  a  sweet  nothingness. 
With  dailiest  babble  shows  her  sense 
That  full  speech  were  full  impotence  ; 
And  while  she  feels  the  heavens  lie  bare. 
She  only  talks  about  her  hair. 
63 


BEGINNING   OF   END 

)HE  was  aweary  of  the  hovering 
\Of  Love's  incessant  and  tumultuous  wing; 
;Her  lover's  tokens  she  would  answer  not  — 
*T  were  well  she  should  be  strange  with  him  some- 
what : 
A  pretty  babe,  this  Love,  —  but  fie  on  it. 
That  would  not  safFer  her  lay  it  down  a  whit ! 
Appointed  tryst  defiantly  she  balked. 
And  with  her  lightest  comrade  lightly  walked. 
Who  scared  the  chidden  Love  to  hide  apart. 
And  peep  from  some  unnoticed  corner  of  her  heart. 
She  thought  not  of  her  lover,  deem  it  not 
(There  yonder,  in  the  hollow,  that's  his  cot). 
But  she  forgot  not  that  he  was  forgot. 
She  saw  him  at  his  gate,  yet  stilled  her  tongue  — 
So  weak  she  felt  her,  that  she  would  feel  strong. 
And  she  must  punish  him  for  doing  him  wrong : 
Passed,  unoblivious  of  oblivion  still  ; 
And  if  she  turned  upon  the  brow  o'  the  hill. 
It  was  so  openly,  so  lightly  done. 
You  saw  she  thought  he  was  not  thought  upon. 
He  through  the  gate  went  back  in  bitterness  ; 
She  that  night  woke  and  stirred,  with  no  distress. 
Glad  of  her  doing,  —  sedulous  to  be  glad. 
Lest  perhaps  her  foolish  heart  suspect  that  it  was  sad. 


PENELOPE 

)OVE,  like  a  wind,  shook  wide  your  blosmy 

You  trembled,  and  your  breath  came  sobbing- 
wise 
For  that  you  loved  me. 


64 


You  were  so  kind,  so  sweet,  none  could  withhold         Penelo/^e 
To  adore,  but  that  you  were  so  strange,  so  cold  ; 
For  that  you  loved  me. 

Like  to  a  box  of  spikenard  did  you  break 
Your  heart  about  my  feet.      What  words  you  spake ! 
For  that  you  loved  me. 

Life  fell  to  dust  without  me ;  so  you  tried 
All  carefullest  ways  to  drive  me  from  your  side. 
For  that  you  loved  me. 

You  gave  yourself  as  children  give,  that  weep 
And  snatch  back,  with  —  '  I  meant  you  not  to  keep  ! ' 
For  that  you  loved  me. 

I  am  no  woman,  girl,  nor  ever  knew 
That  love  could  teach  all  ways  that  hate  could  do 
To  her  that  loved  me. 

Have  less  of  love,  or  less  of  woman  in 
Your  love,  or  loss  may  even  from  this  begin  — 
That  you  so  love  me. 

For,  wild  Penelope,  the  web  you  wove 
You  still  unweave,  unloving  all  your  love ; 
Is  this  to  love  me. 

Or  what  rights  have  I  that  scorn  could  deny  ? 
Even  of  your  love,  alas,  poor  Love  must  die. 
If  so  you  love  me  ! 


THE   END   OF   IT 

JHE  did  not  love  to  love  ;  but  hated  him 
|For  making  her  to  love,  and  so  her  whim 
^From  passion  taught  misprision  to  begin  ; 
And  all  this  sin 

6S  5 


The  End  Was  because  love  to  cast  out  had  no  skill 

^  Self,  which  was  regent  still. 

Her  own  self-will  made  void  her  own  self's  will. 


EPILOGUE 

)F  I  have  studied  here  in  part 
f  A  tale  as  old  as  maiden's  heart, 
'Tis  that  I  do  see  herein 
Shadow  of  more  piteous  sin. 

She,  that  but  giving  part,  not  whole. 
Took  even  the  part  back,  is  the  Soul : 
And  that  so  disdained  Lover  — 
Best  unthought,  since  Love  is  over. 

Love  to  invite,  desire,  and  fear. 
And  Love's  exactions  cost  too  dear 

Count  for  Love's  possession,  — ah. 
Thy  way,  misera  Anima  ! 

To  give  the  pledge,  and  yet  be  pined 
That  a  pledge  should  have  force  to  bind, 
This,  O  Soul,  too  often  still 
Is  the  recreance  of  thy  will ! 

Out  of  Love's  arms  to  make  fond  chain. 
And,  because  struggle  bringeth  pain. 

Hate  Love  for  Love's  sweet  constraint 
Is  the  way  of  Souls  that  faint. 

Such  a  Soul,  for  saddest  end. 
Finds  Love  the  foe  in  Love  the  friend ; 
And  —  ah,  grief  incredible  !  — 
Treads  the  way  of  Heaven,  to  Hell. 

66 


MISCELLANEOUS   ODES 


67 


ODE   TO   THE   SETTING   SUN 

PRELUDE 

^^I^HE  wailful  sweetness  of  the  violin 
^^"Rmi      Floats  down  the  hushed  waters  of  the  wind, 
d^S^lThe  heart-strings  of  the  throbbing  harp  begin 
To  long  in  aching  music.      Spirit-pined, 


In  wafts  that  poignant  sweetness  drifts,  until 

The  wounded  soul  ooze  sadness.      The  red  sun, 

A  bubble  of  fire,  drops  slowly  toward  the  hill. 
While  one  bird  prattles  that  the  day  is  done. 


O  setting  Sun,  that  as  in  reverent  days 
Sinkest  in  music  to  thy  smoothed  sleep. 

Discrowned  of  homage,  though  yet  crowned  with  rays. 
Hymned  not  at  harvest  more,  though  reapers  reap  ; 


For  thee  this  music  wakes  not.      O  deceived. 
If  thou  hear  in  these  thoughtless  harmonies 

A  pious  phantom  of  adorings  reaved. 
And  echo  of  fair  ancient  flatteries  ! 


Yet,  in  this  field  where  the  Cross  planted  reigns, 
I  know  not  what  strange  passion  bows  my  head 

To  thee,  whose  great  command  upon  my  veins 
Proves  thee  a  god  for  me  not  dead,  not  dead  ! 


For  worship  it  is  too  incredulous. 

For  doubt  —  oh,  too  believing-passionate  ! 

What  wild  divinity  makes  my  heart  thus 

A  fount  of  most  bapnsmal  tears  ?  —  Thy  straight 
69 


Ode  to  the    Long  beam  lies  steady  on  the  Cross.      Ah  me  ! 
Sun'^  What  secret  would  thy  radiant  finger  show  ? 

Of  thy  bright  mastership  is  this  the  key  ? 
Is  this  thy  secret,  then  ?     And  is  it  woe  ? 

Fling  from  thine  ear  the  burning  curls,  and  hark 
A  song  thou  hast  not  heard  in  Northern  day ; 

For  Rome  too  daring,  and  for  Greece  too  dark. 
Sweet  with  wild  wings  that  pass,  that  pass  away  ! 


Alpha  and  Omega,  sadness  and  mirth. 

The  springing  music,  and  its  wasting  breath  — 
The  fairest  things  in  life  are  Death  and  Birth, 

And  of  these  two  the  fairer  thing  is  Death. 
Mystical  twins  of  Time  inseparable. 

The  younger  hath  the  holier  array. 
And  hath  the  awfuller  sway  : 

It  is  the  falling  star  that  trails  the  light. 

It  is  the  breaking  wave  that  hath  the  might. 
The  passing  shower  that  rainbows  maniple. 

Is  it  not  so,  O  thou  down-stricken  Day, 
That  draw'st  thy  splendours  round  thee  in  thy  fall  ? 
High  was  thine  Eastern  pomp  inaugural  ; 
But  thou  dost  set  in  statelier  pageantry. 

Lauded  with  tumults  of  a  firmament: 
Thy  visible  music-blasts  make  deaf  the  sky. 

Thy  cymbals  clang  to  fire  the  Occident, 
Thou  dost  thy  dying  so  triumphally  : 
I  see  the  crimson  blaring  of  thy  shawms  ! 

Why  do  those  lucent  palms 
Strew  thy  feet's  failing  thicklier  than  their  might. 
Who  dost  but  hood  thy  glorious  eyes  with  night. 
And  vex  the  heels  of  all  the  yesterdays  ? 
Lo!   this  loud,  lackeying  praise 

70 


Will  stay  behind  to  greet  the  usurping  moon.  Ode  to  the 

When  they  have  cloud-barred  over  thee  the  West.    Sun"^ 

Oh,  shake  the  bright  dust  from  thy  parting  shoon ! 
The  earth  not  paeans  thee,  nor  serves  thy  hest. 

Be  godded  not  by  Heaven!   avert  thy  face. 
And  leave  to  blank  disgrace 

The  oblivious  world !  unscepcre  thee  of  state  and  place  ! 

Ha  !    but  bethink  thee  what  thou  gazedst  on. 

Ere  yet  the  snake  Decay  had  venomed  tooth  ; 
The  name  thou  bar'st  in  those  vast  seasons  gone  — 
Candid  Hyperion, 
Clad  in  the  light  oi  thine  immortal  youth  ! 
Ere  Dionysus  bled  thy  vines. 
Or  Artemis  drave  her  clamours  through  the  wood. 

Thou  saw'st  how  once  against  Olympus'  height 
The  brawny  Titans  stood. 
And  shook  the  gods'  world  'bout  their  ears,  and  how 
Enceladus  (whom  Etna  cumbers  now) 

Shouldered  me  Pelion  with  its  swinging  pines. 
The  river  unrecked,  that  did  its  broken  flood 
Spurt  on  his  back:   before  the  mountainous  shock 

The  ranked  gods  dislock. 
Scared  to  their  skies  ;   wide  o'er  rout-trampled  night 
Flew  spurned  the  pebbled  stars :  those  splendours  then 
Had  tempested  on  earth,  star  upon  star 
Mounded  in  ruin,  if  a  longer  war 
Had  quaked  Olympus  and  cold-fearing  men. 
Then  did  the  ample  marge 
And  circuit  of  thy  targe 
Sullenly  redden  all  the  vaward  fight, 
Above  the  blusterous  clash 
Wheeled  thy  swung  falchion's  fiash. 
And  hewed  their  forces  into  splintered  flight. 

Yet  ere  Olympus  thou  wast,  and  a  god  ! 
Though  we  deny  thy  nod, 
71 


Ode  to  the    We  cannot  spoil  thee  of  thy  divinity. 
Sun^^  What  know  we  elder  than  thee  ? 

When  thou  didst,  bursting  from  the  great  void's  husk. 
Leap  like  a  libn  on  the  throat  o'  the  dusk  ; 
When  the  angels  rose-chapleted 

Sang  each  to  other. 
The  vaulted  blaze  overhead 
Of  their  vast  pinions  spread. 
Hailing  thee  brodier  ; 
How  chaos  rolled  back  from  the  wonder. 
And   the  First    Morn   knelt   down   to   thy  visage  of 
thunder ! 

Thou  didst  draw  to  thy  side 
Thy  young  Auroral  bride. 
And  lift  her  veil  of  night  and  mystery ; 
Tellus  with  baby  hands 
Shook  off  her  swaddling-bands. 
And    from  the  unswathed   vapours    laughed    to 
thee. 

Thou  twi-form  deity,  nurse  at  once  and  sire ! 
Thou  genitor  that  all  things  nourishest  ! 
The  earth  was  suckled  at  thy  shining  breast. 
And  in  her  veins  is  quick  thy  milky  tire. 
Who  scarfed  her  with  the  morning  ?  and  who  set 
Upon  her  brow  the  day-fall's  carcanet  ? 

Who  queened  her  front  with  the  enrondured  moon  ? 
Who  dug  night's  jewels  from  their  vaulty  mine 
To  dower  her,  past  an  eastern  wizard's  dreams. 
When  hovering  on  him  through  his  haschish-swoon. 

All  the  rained  gems  of  the  old  Tartarian  line 
Shiver  in  lustrous  throbbings  of  tinged  flame  ? 
Whereof  a  moiety  in  the  Paolis'  seams 
Statelily  builded  their  Venetian  name. 
Thou  hast  enwoofed  her 
An  empress  of  the  air, 

72 


And  all  her  births  are  propertied  by  thee  :  Odetotht 

Her  teeming  centuries  iiJn'^ 

Drew  being  from  thine  eyes  : 

Thou  fatt'st  the  marrow  of  all  quahty. 

Who  lit  the  furnace  of  the  mammoth's  heart? 
Who  shagged  him  like  Pilatus'  ribbed  flanks? 
Who  raised  the  columned  ranks 
Of  that  old  pre-diluvian  forestry. 
Which  like  a  continent  torn  oppressed  the  sea. 
When  the  ancient  heavens  did  in  rains  depart. 
While  the  high-danced  whirls 
Of  the  tossed  scud  made  hiss  thy  drenched  curls  ? 
Thou  rear'dst  the  enormous  brood  ; 
Who  hast  with  life  imbued 
The  lion  maned  in  tawny  majesty. 
The  tiger  velvet-barred. 
The  stealthy-stepping  pard. 
And  the  lithe  panther's  flexuous  symmetry. 

How  came  the  entombed  tree  a  light-bearer. 
Though  sunk  in  lightless  lair  ? 
Friend  of  the  forgers  of  earth. 
Mate  of  the  earthquake  and  thunders  volcanic. 
Clasped  in  the  arms  of  the  forces  Titanic 
Which  rock  like  a  cradle  the  girth 
Of  the  ether-hung  world  ; 
Swart  son  of  the  swarthy  mine. 
When  flame  on  the  breath  of  his  nostrils  feeds 
How  is  his  countenance  half-divine. 
Like  thee  in  thy  sanguine  weeds  ? 
Thou  gavest  him  his  light. 
Though  sepultured  in  night 
Beneath  the  dead  bones  of  a  perished  world  ; 
Over  his  prostrate  form 
Though  cold,  and  heat,  and  storm, 
73 


Ode  to  the  The  mountainous  wrack  of  a  creation  hurled. 

^un^^  Who  made  the  splendid  rose 

Saturate  with  purple  glows  ; 
Cupped  to  the  marge  with  beauty  ;   a  perfume-press 

Whence  the  wind  vintages 
Gushes  of  warmed  fragrance  richer  far 

Than  all  the  flavorous  ooze  of  Cyprus'  vats  ? 
Lo,  in  yon  gale  which  waves  her  green  cymar. 
With  dusky  cheeks  burnt  red 
She  sways  her  heavy  head. 
Drunk  with  the  must  of  her  own  odorousness ; 

While  in  a  moted  trouble  the  vexed  gnats 
Maze,  and  vibrate,  and  tease  the  noontide  hush. 

Who  girt  dissolved  lightnings  in  the  grape? 
Summered  the  opal  with  an  Irised  flush  ? 
Is  it  not  thou  that  dost  the  tulip  drape. 
And  huest  the  daffodilly. 
Yet  who  hast  snowed  the  lily. 
And  her  frail  sister,  whom  the  waters  name. 
Dost  vestal-vesture  'mid  the  blaze  of  June, 
Cold  as  the  new-sprung  girlhood  of  the  moon 
Ere  Autumn's  kiss  sultry  her  cheek  with  flame? 
Thou  sway' St  thy  sceptred  beam 
O'er  all  delight  and  dream. 
Beauty  is  beautiful  but  in  thy  glance  ; 
And  like  a  jocund  maid 
In  garland-flowers  arrayed. 
Before  thy  ark  Earth  keeps  her  sacred  dance. 

And  now,  O  shaken  from  thine  antique  throne. 
And  sunken  from  thy  coerule  empery. 

Now  that  the  red  glare  of  thy  fall  is  blown 
In  smoke  and  flame  about  the  windy  sky. 

Where  are  the  wailing  voices  that  should  meet 
From  hill,  stream,  grove,  and  all  of  mortal  shape 

Who  tread  thy  gifts,  in  vineyards  as  stray  feet 

74 


Pulp  the  globed  weight  of  juiced  Iberia's  grape?         Ode  to  the 
Where  is  the  threne  o'  the  sea  ?  Sun"^ 

And  why  not  dirges  thee 
The  wind,  that  sings  to  himself"  as  he  makes  stride 
Lonely  and  terrible  on  the  Andean  height  ? 

Where  is  the  Naiad  'mid  her  sworded  sedge  ? 
The   Nymph    wan-glimmering  by  her  wan   fount's 
verge  ? 
The  Dryad  at  timid  gaze  by  the  wood-side  ? 
The  Oread  jutting  light 
On  one  up-strained  sole  from  the  rock-ledge  ? 
The  Nereid  tip-toe  on  the  scud  o'  the  surge. 
With  whistling  tresses  dank  athwart  her  face. 
And  all  her  figure  poised  in  lithe  Circean  grace  ? 
Why  withers  their  lament  ? 
Their  tresses  tear-besprent. 
Have  they  sighed  hence  with  trailing  garment-hem  ? 

0  sweet,  O  sad,  O  fair ! 

1  catch  your  flying  hair. 

Draw  your  eyes  down  to  me,  and  dream  on  them ! 

A  space,  and  they  fleet  from  me.      Must  ye  fade  — 
O  old,  essential  candours,  ye  who  made 
The  earth  a  living  and  a  radiant  thing  — 

And   leave   her  corpse    in   our   strained,  cheated 

arms  ? 
Lo  ever  thus,  when  Song  with  chorded  charms 
Draws  from  dull  death  his  lost  Eurydice, 
Lo  ever  thus,  even  at  consummating, 
Even  in  the  swooning  minute  that  claims  her  his. 
Even  as  he  trembles  to  the  impassioned  kiss 
Of  reincarnate  Beauty,  his  control 
Clasps  the  cold  bodv,  and  foregoes  the  soul  ! 
Whatso  looks  lovelily 
Is  but  the  rainbow  on  life's  weeping  rain. 
Why  have  we  longings  of  immortal  pain, 
75 


Ode  to  the    And  all  we  long  for  mortal  ?     Woe  is  me, 
Sun"^        And  all  our  chants  but  chaplet  some  decay. 
As  mine  this  vanishing  —  nay,  vanished  Day. 
The  low  sky-line  dusks  to  a  leaden  hue. 

No  rift  disturbs  the  heavy  shade  and  chill. 
Save  one,  where  the  charred  firmament  lets  through 
The  scorching    dazzle   of  Heaven ;   'gainst   which 
the  hill. 
Out-flattened  sombrely. 
Stands  black  as  life  against  eternity. 
Against  eternity  ? 
A  rifting  light  in  me 
Burns  through  the  leaden  broodings  of  the  mind  : 
O  blessed  Sun,  thy  state 
Uprisen  or  derogate 
Dafts  me  no  more  with  doubt ;   I  seek  and  find. 


If  with  exultant  tread 

Thou  foot  the  Eastern  sea. 
Or  like  a  golden  bee 
Sting  the  West  to  angry  red. 
Thou  dost  image,  thou  dost  follow 
That  King- Maker  of  Creation, 
Who,  ere  Hellas  hailed  Apollo, 
Gave  thee,  angel-god,  thy  station  ; 
Thou  art  of  Him  a  type  memorial. 

Like  Him  thou  hang'st  in  dreadful  pomp  of  blood 

Upon  thy  Western  rood  ; 
And  His  stained  brow  did  vail  like  thine  to-night. 
Yet  lift  once  more  Its  light, 
And,  risen,  again  departed  from  our  ball. 
But  when  It  set  on  earth  arose  in  Heaven. 
Thus  hath  He  unto  death  His  beauty  given  : 
And  so  of  all  which  form  inheriteth 

The  fall  doth  pass  the  rise  in  worth  ; 

76 


For  birth  hath  in  itself  the  germ  of  death.  Ode  to  the 

But  death  hath  in  itself  the  germ  of  birth.  ^un"^ 

It  is  the  falling  acorn  buds  the  tree. 

The  falling  rain  that  bears  the  greenery. 

The  fern-plants  moulder  when  the  ferns  arise. 
For  there  is  nothing  lives  but  something  dies. 

And  there  is  nothing  dies  but  something  lives. 
Till  skies  be  fugitives. 

Till  Time,  the  hidden  root  of  change,  updries. 

Are  Birth  and  Death  inseparable  on  earth  ; 

For  they  are  twain  yet  one,  and  Death  is  Birth. 


AFTER-STRAIN 

Now  with  wan  ray  that  other  sun  of  Song 
Sets  in  the  bleakening  waters  of  my  soul  : 

One  step,  and  lo  !   the  Cross  stands  gaunt  and  long 
'Twixt  me  and  yet  bright  skies,  a  presaged  dole. 

Even  so,  O  Cross  !   thine  is  the  victor}'. 

Thy  roots  are  fast  within  our  fairest  fields  ; 
Brightness  may  emanate  in  Heaven  from  thee. 

Here  thy  dread  symbol  only  shadow  yields. 

Of  reaped  joys  thou  art  the  heavy  sheaf 

Which  must  be  lifted,  though  the  reaper  groan  ; 

Yea,  we  may  cry  till  Heaven's  great  ear  be  deaf. 
But  we  must  bear  thee,  and  must  bear  alone. 

Vain  were  a  Simon  ;   of  the  Antipodes 

Our  night  not  borrows  the  superfluous  day. 

Yet  woe  to  him  that  from  his  burden  flees ! 
Crushed  in  the  fall  of  what  he  cast  away. 
77 


Ode  to  the    Therefore,  O  tender  Lady,  Queen  Mary, 
Su)T^  Thou  gentleness  that  dost  enmoss  and  drape 

The  Cross's  rigorous  austerity. 

Wipe  thou  the  blood  from  wounds  that  needs  must 
gape. 

*  Lo,  though  suns  rise  and  set,  but  crosses  stay, 
I  leave  thee  ever,'  saith  she,  *  light  of  cheer.' 

'Tis  so  :   yon  sky  still  thinks  upon  the  Day, 
And  showers  aerial  blossoms  on  his  bier. 

Yon  cloud  with  wrinkled  fire  is  edged  sharp  ; 

And  once  more  welhng  through  the  air,  ah  me  ! 
How  the  sweet  viol  plains  him  to  the  harp. 

Whose  panged  sobbings  throng  tumultuously. 

Oh,  this  Medusa-pleasure  with  her  stings  ! 

This  essence  of  all  suffering,  which  is  joy  ! 
I  am  not  thankless  for  the  spell  it  brings. 

Though  tears  must  be  told  down  for  the  charmed 
toy. 

No  ;  while  soul,  sky,  and  music  bleed  together. 
Let  me  give  thanks  even  for  those  griefs  in  me. 

The  restless  windward  stirrings  of  whose  feather 
Prove  them  the  brood  of  immortality. 

My  soul  is  quitted  of  death-neighbouring  swoon. 
Who  shall  not  slake  her  immitigable  scars. 

Until  she  hear  '  My  sister  !  '  from  the  moon. 
And  take  the  kindred  kisses  of  the  stars. 


75 


CAPTAIN  OF    SONG:    On    a    Portrait   of 
Coventry  Patmore  by  j.  s.  sargent,  r.  a. 

?OOK  on  him.      This  is  he  whose  works  ye 

know  ; 
^^^^Ye  have  adored,  thanked,  loved  him,  —  no, 

not  him  ! 
But  that  of  him  which  proud  portentous  woe 
To  its  own  grim 

Presentment  was  not  potent  to  subdue, 
Nor  all  the  reek  of  Erebus  to  dim. 
This,  and  not  him,  ye  knew. 
Look  on  him  now.     Love,  worship  if  ye  can. 
The  very  man. 

Ye  may  not.      He  has  trod  the  ways  afar. 
The  fatal  ways  of  parting  and  farewell. 
Where  all  the.  paths  of  pained  greatness  are; 
Where  round  and  always  round 
The  abhorred  words  resound. 
The  words  accursed  of  comfortable  men, — 
*  For  ever  '  ;   and  infinite  glooms  intolerable 
With  spacious  replication  give  again. 
And  hollow  jar. 

The  words  abhorred  of  comfortable  men. 
You  the  stern  pities  of  the  gods  debar 
To  drink  where  he  has  drunk 
The  moonless  mere  of  sighs. 
And  pace  the  places  infamous  to  tell. 
Where  God  wipes  not  the  tears  from  any  eyes. 
Where-through  the  ways  of  dreadful  greatness  are. 

He  knows  the  perilous  rout 
That  all  those  ways  about 
Sink  into  doom,  and  sinking,  still  are  sunk. 
And  if  his  sole  and  solemn  term  thereout 
He  has  attained,  to  love  ye  shall  not  dare 
One  who  has  journeyed  there  ; 
7Q 


A  Captain   Ye  shall  mark  well 

y    ong       rpj^^  mighty  cruelties  which  arm  and  mar 
That  countenance  o^  control. 
With  minatory  warnings  of  a  soul 
That  hath  to  its  own  selfhood  been  most  fell. 
And  is  not  weak  to  spare  : 
And  lo,  that  hair 
Is  blanched  with  the  travel-heats  of  hell. 

If  any  be 

That  shall  with  rites  of  reverent  piety 

Approach  this  strong 

Sad  soul  of  sovereign  Song, 

Nor  fail  and  falter  with  the  intimidate  throng ; 

If  such  there  be. 

These,  these  are  only  they 

Have  trod  the  self-same  way ; 

The  never-twice-revolving  portals  heard 

Behind  them  clang  infernal,  and  that  word 

Abhorred  sighed  of  kind  mortality. 

As  he  — 

Ah,  even  as  he  ! 


AGAINST   URANIA 

€f^^)0  I,  Song's  most  true  lover,  plain  me  sore 

([^I'^V^That  worse  than  other  women  she  can  deceive, 

^.t^^^For  she  being  goddess,  I  have  given  her  more 

Than  mortal  ladies  from  their  loves  receive  : 

And  first  of  her  embrace 

She  was  not  coy,  and  gracious  were  her  ways. 

That  I  forgot  all  virgins  to  adore  ; 

Nor  did  I  greatly  grieve 

To  bear  through  arid  days 

The  pretty  foil  of  her  divine  delays  ; 

80 


And  one  by  one  to  cast  Against 

Life,  love,  and  health. 

Content,  and  wealth. 

Before  her,  thinking  ever  on  her  praise. 

Until  at  last 

Nought  had  1  left  she  would  be  gracious  for. 

Now  of  her  cozening  I  complain  me  sore. 

Seeing  her  uses. 

That  still,  more  constantly  she  is  pursued. 

And  straitlier  wooed. 

Her  only-adored  favour  more  refuses. 

And  leaves  me  to  implore 

Remembered  boon  in  bitterness  of  blood. 

From  mortal  woman  thou  may'st  know  full  well, 

O  poet,  chat  dost  deem  the  fair  and  tall 

Urania  of  her  ways  not  mutable. 

When  things  shall  thee  befall 

What  thou  art  toiled  in  her  sweet,  wild  spell. 

Do  they  strow  for  thy  feet 

A  little  tender  favour  and  deceit 

Over  the  sudden  mouth  of  hidden  hell  ?  — 

As  more  intolerable 

Her  pit,  as  her  first  kiss  is  heavenlier-sweet. 

Are  they,  the  more  thou  sigh. 

Still  the  more  watchful-cruel  to  deny  ?  — 

Know  this,  that  in  her  service  thou  shalt  learn 

How  harder  than  the  heart  of  woman  is 

The  immortal  cruelty 

Of  the  high  goddesses. 

True  is  his  witness  who  doth  witness  this. 
Whose  gaze  too  early  fell  — 
Nor  thence  shall  turn, 

Nor  in  those  fires  shall  cease  to  weep  and  burn  — 
Upon  her  ruinous  eyes  and  ineludible. 
8i  6 


AN   ANTHEM    OF   EARTH 

PRCEMION 

IMMEASURABLE  Earth  ! 
[Through  the  loud  vast  and  populacy  of  Heaven, 
^Tempested  with  gold  schools  of  ponderous  orbs. 
That  cleav'st  with  deep-revolving  harmonies 
Passage  perpetual,  and  behind  thee  draw's! 
A  furrow  sweet,  a  cometary  wake 
Of  trailing  music  !      What  large  effluence. 
Not  sole  the  cloudy  sighing  of  thy  seas. 
Nor  thy  blue-coifing  air,  encases  thee 
From  prying  of  the  stars,  and  the  broad  shafts 
Of  thrusting  sunlight  tempers  ?      For,  dropped  near 
From  my  removed  tour  in  the  serene 
Of  utmost  contemplation,  I  scent  lives. 
This  is  the  efflux  of  thy  rocks  and  fields. 
And  wind- cuffed  forestage,  and  the  souls  of  men. 
And  aura  of  all  treaders  over  thee  ; 
A  sentient  exhalation,  wherein  close 
The  odorous  lives  of  many-throated  flowers. 
And  each  thing's  mettle  effused  ;  that  so  thou  wear'st. 
Even  like  a  breather  on  a  frosty  morn. 
Thy  proper  suspiration.      For  I  know. 
Albeit,  with  custom-dulled  perceivingness. 
Nestled  against  thy  breast,  my  sense  not  take 
The  breathings  of  thy  nostrils,  there's  no  tree. 
No  grain  of  dust,  nor  no  cold-seeming  stone. 
But  wears  a  fume  of  its  circumfluous  self. 
Thine  own  life  and  the  lives  of  all  that  live. 
The  issue  of  thy  loins. 
Is  this  thy  gaberdine. 

Wherein  thou  walkest  through  thy  large  demesne 
And  sphery  pleasances, — 
Amazing  the  unstaled  eyes  of  Heaven, 
And  us  that  still  a  precious  seeing  have 
Behind  this  dim  and  mortal  jelly. 

82 


Ah  !  JTmhem 

If  not  in  all  too  late  and  frozen  a  day  of  Earth 

I  come  in  rearward  of  the  throats  of  song. 
Unto  the  deaf  sense  of  the  aged  year 
Singing  with  doom  upon  me  ;  yet  give  heed  ! 
One  poet  with  sick  pinion,  that  still  feels 
Breath  through  the  Orient  gateways  closing  fast. 
Fast  closing  t'ward  the  undelighted  night  ! 


ANTHEM 

In  nescientness,  in  nescientness. 

Mother,  we  put  these  fleshly  lendings  on 

Thou  yield' st  to  thy  poor  children  ;   took  thy  gift 

Of  life,  which  must,  in  all  the  after-days. 

Be  craved  again  with  tears,  — 

With  fresh  and  still-petitionary  tears. 

Being  once  bound  thine  almsmen  for  that  gift. 

We  are  bound  to  beggary,  nor  our  own  can  call 

The  journal  dole  of  customary  life. 

But  after  suit  obsequious  for't  to  thee. 

Indeed  this  flesh,  O  Mother, 

A  beggar's  gown,  a  client's  badging. 

We  find,  which  from  thy  hands  we  simply  took. 

Nought  dreaming  of  the  after  penury. 

In  nescientness. 

In  a  little  joy,  in  a  little  joy. 

We  wear  awhile  thy  sore  insignia. 

Nor  know  thy  heel  o'  the  neck.     O  Mother  !  Mother! 

Then  what  use  knew  I  of  thv  solemn  robes. 

But  as  a  child,  to  play  with  them  ?     I  bade  thee 

Leave  thy  great  husbandries,  thy  grave  designs. 

Thy  tedious  state  which  irked  my  ignorant  years. 

Thy  winter- watches,  suckling  of  the  grain, 

Severe  premeditation  taciturn 


An  Upon  the  brooded  Summer,  thy  chill  cares, 

^pEaTth      -^""^  ^^^  ^y  ministries  majestical. 

To  sport  with  me,  thy  darling.      Thought  I  not 

Thou  set' St  thy  seasons  forth  processional 

To  pamper  me  with  pageant,  —  thou  thyself 

My  fellow-gamester,  appanage  of  mine  arms  ? 

Then  what  wild  Dionysia  I,  young  Bacchanal, 

Danced  in  thy  lap  !     Ah  for  thy  gravity ! 

Then,  O  Earth,  thou  rang'st  beneath  me. 

Rocked  to  Eastward,  rocked  to  Westward, 

Even  with  the  shifted 

Poise  and  footing  of  my  thought ! 

I  brake  through  thy  doors  of  sunset. 

Ran  before  the  hooves  of  sunrise. 

Shook  thy  matron  tresses  down  in  fancies 

Wild  and  wilful 

As  a  poet's  hand  could  twine  them  ; 

Caught  in  my  fantasy's  crystal  chalice 

The  Bow,  as  its  cataract  of  colours 

Plashed  to  thee  downward  ; 

Then  when  thy  circuit  swung  to  nightward. 

Night  the  abhorred,  night  was  a  new  dawning. 

Celestial  dawning 

Over  the  ultimate  marges  of  the  soul  ; 

Dusk  grew  turbulent  with  fire  before  me. 

And  like  a  windy  arras  waved  with  dreams. 

Sleep  I  took  not  for  my  bedfellow. 

Who  could  waken 

To  a  revel,  an  inexhaustible 

Wassail  of  orgiac  imageries  ; 

Then  while  I  wore  thy  sore  insignia 

In  a  little  joy,  O  Earth,  in  a  litde  joy  ; 

Loving  thy  beauty  in  all  creatures  born  of  thee, 

Children,  and  the  sweet-essenced  body  o'i  woman  ; 

Feeling  not  vet  upon  my  neck  thy  foot. 

But  breathing  warm  of  thee  as  infants  breathe 

84 


New  from  their  mother's  morning  bosom.      So  1,  An 

Risen  from  thee,  restless  winnower  of  the  heaven,         o/karih 

Most  Hcrmes-like,  did  keep 

My  vital  and  resilient  path,  and  felt 

The  play  of  wings  about  my  fledged  heel  — 

Sure  on  the  verges  of  precipitous  dream. 

Swift  in  its  springing 

From  jut  to  jut  of  inaccessible  fancies. 

In  a  little  joy. 


In  a  little  thought,  in  a  little  thought. 

We  stand  and  eye  thee  in  a  grave  dismay. 

With  sad  and  doubtful  questioning,  when  first 

Thou  speak' st  to  us  as  men  :  like  sons  who  hear 

Newly  their  mother's  history,  unthought 

Before,  and  say  —  *  She  is  not  as  we  dreamed  : 

Ah  me  !  we  are  beguiled  ! '      What  art  thou,  then. 

That  art  not  our  conceiving  ?     Art  thou  not 

Too  old  for  thy  young  children  ?      Or  perchance. 

Keep' St  thou  a  youth  perpetual-burnishable 

Beyond  thy  sons  decrepit  ?     It  is  long 

Since  Time  was  first  a  fledgling ; 

Yet  thou  may'st  be  but  as  a  pendant  bulla 

Against  his  stripling  bosom  swung.      Alack  ! 

For  that  we  seem  indeed 

To  have  slipped  the  world's  great  leaping- time,  and 

come 
Upon  thy  pinched  and  dozing  days :   these  weeds. 
These  corporal  leavings,  thou  not  cast'st  us  new. 
Fresh  from  thy  craftship,  like  the  lilies'  coats. 
But  foist' St  us  off 

With  hasty  tarnished  piercings  negligent. 
Snippets  and  waste 
From  old  ancestral  wearings. 
That  have  seen  sorrier  usage  ;   remainder- flesh 
After  our  father's  surfeits  ;   nay  with  chinks, 

85 


An  Some  of  us,  that  if  speech  may  have  free  leave 

of  Earth.      ^"^  souls  go  out  at  clbows.      We  are  sad 

With  more  than  our  sires'  heaviness,  and  with 
More  than  their  weakness  weak  ;  we  shall  not  be 
Mighty  with  all  their  mightiness,  nor  shall  not 
Rejoice  with  all  their  joy.     Ay,  Mother  !   Mother  ! 
What  is  this  Man,  thy  darling  kissed  and  cuffed. 
Thou  lustingly  engender' st. 
To  sweat,  and  make  his  brag,  and  rot. 
Crowned  with  all  honour  and  all  shamefulness  ? 
From  nightly  towers 

He  dogs  the  secret  footsteps  of  the  heavens. 
Sifts  in  his  hands  the  stars,  weighs  them  as  gold-dust. 
And  yet  is  he  successive  unto  nothing 
But  patrimony  of  a  little  mould. 

And  entail  of  four  planks.    Thou  hast  made  his  mouth 
Avid  of  all  dominion  and  all  mightiness. 
All  sorrow,  all  delight,  all  topless  grandeurs. 
All  beauty,  and  all  starry  majesties. 
And  dim  transtellar  things ;  —  even  that  it  may. 
Filled  in  the  ending  with  a  puff  of  dust. 
Confess  —  '  It  is  enough, '      The  world  left  empty 
What  that  poor  mouthful  crams.     His  heart  is  builded 
For  pride,  for  potency,  infinity. 
All  heights,  all  deeps,  and  all  immensities, 
Arrased  with  purple  like  the  house  of  kings,  — 
To  stall  the  grey-rat,  and  the  carrion-worm 
Statelily  lodge.      Mother  of  mysteries  ! 
Sayer  of  dark  sayings  in  a  thousand  tongues. 
Who  bringest  forth  no  saying  yet  so  dark 
As  we  ourselves,  thy  darkest  !     We  the  young. 
In  a  little  thought,  in  a  little  thought. 
At  last  confront  thee,  and  ourselves  in  thee. 
And  wake  disgarmented  of  glory  :   as  one 
On  a  mount  standing,  and  against  him  stands. 
On  the  mount  adverse,  crowned  with  westering  rays, 

86 


The  golden  sun,  and  they  two  brotherly  -^'« 

--,1  1-  Anthem 

daze  each  on  each  ;  of  Earth 

He  faring  down 

To  the  dull  vale,  his  Godhead  peels  from  him. 

Till  he  can  scarcely  spurn  the  pebble  — 

For  nothingness  of  new-found  mortality  — 

That  mutinies  against  his  galled  foot. 

Littly  he  sets  him  to  the  daily  way. 

With  all  around  the  valleys  growing  grave. 

And    known    things    changed    and    strange  ;    but    he 

holds  on. 

Though  all  the  land  of  light  be  widowed. 

In  a  little  thought. 

In  a  little  strength,  in  a  little  strength. 
We  affront  thy  unveiled  face  intolerable. 
Which  yet  we  do  sustain. 
Though  I  the  Orient  never  more  shall  feel 
Break  like  a  clash  of  cymbals,  and  my  heart 
Clang  through  my  shaken  body  like  a  gong ; 
Nor  ever  more  with  spurted  feet  shall  tread 
I'  the  winepresses  of  song  ;   nought's  truly  lost 
That  moulds  to  sprout  forth  gain  :  now  I  have  on  me 
The  high  Phoebean  priesthood,  and  that  craves 
An  unrash  utterance ;   not  with  flaunted  hem 
May  the  Muse  enter  in  behind  the  veil. 
Nor,  though  we  hold  the  sacred  dances  good. 
Shall  the  holy  Virgins  msnadize  :   ruled  lips 
Befit  a  votaress  Muse. 

Thence  with  no  mutable,  nor  no  gelid  love, 
I  keep,  O  Earth,  thv  worship. 
Though  life  slow,  and  the  sobering  Genius  change 
To  a  lamp  his  gusty  torch.     What  though  no  more 
Athwart  its  roseal  glow 

Thy  face  look  forth  triumphal  ?     Thou  put'st  on 
Strange  sanctities  of  pathos;  like  this  knoll 
87 


of  Earth 


An  Made  derelict  of  day, 

"IPil'^a^u      Couchant  and  shadowed 

Under  dim  Vesper's  overloosened  hair : 

This,  where  embossed  with  the  half-blown  seed 

The  solemn  purple  thistle  stands  in  grass 

Grey  as  an  exhalation,  when  the  bank 

Holds  mist  for  water  in  the  nights  of  Fall. 

Not  to  the  boy,  although  his  eyes  be  pure 

As  the  prime  snowdrop  is. 

Ere  the  rash  Phcebus  break  her  cloister 

Of  sanctimonious  snow  ; 

Or  Winter  fasting  sole  on  Himalay 

Since  those  dove-nuncioed  days 

When  Asia  rose  from  bathing ; 

Not  to  such  eyes, 

Uneuphrasied  with  tears,  the  hierarchical 

Vision  lies  unoccult,  rank  under  rank 

Through  all  create  down- wheeling,  from  the  Throne 

Even  to  the  bases  of  the  pregnant  ooze. 

This  is  the  enchantment,  this  the  exaltation. 

The  all-compensating  wonder. 

Giving  to  common  things  wild  kindred 

With  the  gold-tesserate  floors  of  Jove  ; 

Linking  such  heights  and  such  humilities 

Hand  in  hand  in  ordinal  dances. 

That  I  do  think  my  tread. 

Stirring  the  blossoms  in  the  meadow-grass. 

Flickers  the  unwithering  stars. 

This  to  the  shunless  fardel  of  the  world 

Nerves  my  uncurbed  back  ;  that  I  endure. 

The  monstrous  Temple's  moveless  caryatid. 

With  wide  eyes  calm  upon  the  whole  of  things. 

In  a  litde  strength. 

In  a  little  sight,  in  a  little  sight. 

We  learn  from  what  in  thee  is  credible 

88 


The  incredible,  with  bloody  clutch  and  feet  ^^ 

Clinging  the  painful  juts  of  jagged  faith.  ifkarth 

Science,  old  noser  in  its  pridcful  straw. 

That  with  anatomising  scalpel  tents 

Its  three-inch  of  thy  skin,  and  brags  —  '  All 's  bare,' 

The  eyeless  worm,  that  boring  works  the  soil. 

Making  it  capable  for  the  crops  of  God  ; 

Against  its  own  dull  will 

Ministers  poppies  to  our  troublous  thought, 

A  Balaam  come  to  prophecy,  —  parables. 

Nor  of  its  parable  itself  is  ware. 

Grossly  unwotting  ;   all  things  has  expounded 

Reflux  and  influx,  counts  the  sepulchre 

The  seminary  of  being,  and  extinction 

The  Ceres  of  existence  :   it  discovers 

Life  in  putridity,  vigour  in  decay  ; 

Dissolution  even,  and  disintegration. 

Which  in  our  dull  thoughts  symbolise  disorder. 

Finds  in  God's  thoughts  irrefragable  order. 

And  admirable  the  manner  of  our  corruption 

As  of  our  health.      It  grafts  upon  the  cypress 

The  tree  of  Life  —  Death  dies  on  his  own  dart  j 

Promising  to  our  ashes  perpetuity. 

And  to  our  perishable  elements 

Their  proper  imperishability  ;   extracting 

Medicaments  from  out  mortality 

Against  too  mortal  cogitation  ;  till 

Even  of  the  caput  mortum  we  do  thus 

Make  a  memento  vivere.      To  such  uses 

I  put  the  blinding  knowledge  of  the  fool. 

Who  in  no  order  seeth  ordinance  ; 

Nor  thrust  my  arm  in  nature  shoulder-high. 

And  cry  —  *  There  's  nought  beyond  ! '    How  should 

I  so. 
That  cannot  with  these  arms  of  mine  engirdle 
All  which  I  am ;  that  am  a  foreigner 

89 


■^«  In  mine  own  region  ?     Who  the  chart  shall  draw 

opdarih      O^  the  Strange  courts  and  vaulty  labyrinths. 
The  spacious  tenements  and  wide  pleasances 
Innumerable  corridors  far-withdrawn. 
Where  I  wander  darkling,  of  myself? 
Darkling  I  wander,  nor  I  dare  explore 
The  long  arcane  of  those  dim  catacombs. 
Where  the  rat  memory  does  its  burrows  make. 
Close-seal  them  as  I  may,  and  my  stolen  tread 
Starts  populace,  a  gens  lucifuga  ; 
That  too  strait  seems  my  mind  my  mind  to  hold. 
And  I  myself  incontinent  of  me. 
Then  go  I,  my  foul-venting  ignorance 
With  scabby  sapience  plastered,  aye  forsooth  ! 
Clap  my  wise  foot-rule  to  the  walls  o'  the  world. 
And  vow  —  A  goodly  house,  hut  something  ancient. 
And  I  can  find  no  Master  ?     Rather,  nay. 
By  baffled  seeing,  something  I  divine 
Which  baffles,  and  a  seeing  set  beyond  ; 
And  so  with  strenuous  gazes  sounding  down. 
Like  to  the  day-long  porer  on  a  stream. 
Whose  last  look  is  his  deepest,  I  beside 
This  slow  perpetual  Time  stand  patiently. 
In  a  little  sight. 

In  a  little  dust,  in  a  little  dust. 

Earth,  thou  reclaim' st  us,  who  do  all  our  lives 

Find  of  thee  but  Egyptian  villeinage. 

Thou  dost  this  body,  this  enhavocked  realm. 

Subject  to  ancient  and  ancestral  shadows ; 

Descended  passions  sway  it ;   it  is  distraught 

With  ghostly  usurpation,  dinned  and  fretted 

With  the  still-tyrannous  dead  ;   a  haunted  tenement. 

Peopled  from  barrows  and  outworn  ossuaries. 

Thou  giv'st  us  life  not  half  so  willingly 

As  thou  undost  thy  giving  ;  thou  that  teem'st 

90 


The  stealthy  terror  of  the  sinuous  pard.  An 

The  lion  maned  with  curled  puissance,  opEarth 

The  serpent,  and  all  fair  strong  beasts  o'i  ravin. 

Thyself  most  fair  and  potent  beast  of  ravin  ; 

And  thy  great  eaters  thou,  the  greatest,  eat'st. 

Thou  hast  devoured  mammoth  and  mastodon. 

And  many  a  floating  bank  of  fangs. 

The  scaly  scourges  of  thy  primal  brine. 

And  the  tower-crested  plesiosaure. 

Thou  fill' St  thy  mouth  with  nations,  gorgest  slow 

On  purple  asons  of  kings  ;  man's  hulking  towers 

Are  carcase  for  thee,  and  to  modern  sun 

Disglutt'st  their  splintered  bones. 

Rabble  of  Pharaohs  and  Arsacids 

Keep  their  cold  house  within  thee ;   thou  hast  sucked 

down 
How  many  Ninevehs  and  Hecatompyloi, 
And  perished  cities  whose  great  phantasmata 
O'erbrow  the  silent  citizens  of  Dis  :  — 
Hast  not  thy  fill  > 

Tarry  awhile,  lean  Earth,  for  thou  shalt  drink. 
Even  till  thy  dull  throat  sicken. 

The  draught  thou  grow'st  most  fat  on  ;  hear'st  thou  not 
The   world's    knives   bickering   in  their  sheaths?     O 

patience  ! 
Much  offal  of  a  foul  world  comes  thy  way. 
And  man's  superfluous  cloud  shall  soon  be  laid 
In  a  little  blood. 

In  a  little  peace,  in  a  little  peace, 

Thou  dost  rebate  thy  rigid  purposes 

Of  imposed  being,  and  relenting,  mend'st 

Too  much,   with  nought.     The  westering   Phoebus' 

horse 
Paws  i'  the  lucent  dust  as  when  he  shocked 
The  East  with  rising  ;   O  how  may  I  trace 

91 


An  In  this  decline  that  morning  when  we  did 

ofEarlh      Sport  'twixt  the  claws  of  newly-whelped  existence. 
Which  had  not  yet  learned  rending  ?  we  did  then 
Divinely  stand,  not  knowing  yet  against  us 
Sentence  had  passed  of  life,  nor  commutation 
Petidoning  into  death.      What's  he  that  of 
The  Free  State  argues  ?     Tellus  !  bid  him  stoop. 
Even  where  the  low  hie  j ace t  answers  him  ; 
Thus  low,  O  Man  !   there's  freedom's  seignory, 
Tellus'  most  reverend  sole  free  commonweal. 
And  model  deeply-policied  :   there  none 
Stands  on  precedence,  nor  ambitiouslv 
Woos  the  impartial  worm,  whose  favours  kiss 
With  liberal  largesse  all  ;   there  each  is  free 
To  be  e'en  what  he  must,  which  here  did  strive 
So  much  to  be  he  could  not  ;   there  all  do 
Their  uses  just,  with  no  flown  questioning. 
To  be  took  by  the  hand  of  equal  earth 
They  doff  her  livery,  slip  to  the  worm. 
Which  lacqueys  them,  their  suits  of  maintenance. 
And  that  soiled  workaday  apparel  cast. 
Put  on  condition  :    Death's  ungentle  buffet 
Alone  makes  ceremonial  manumission  ; 
So  are  the  heavenly  statutes  set,  and  those 
Uranian  tables  of  the  primal  Law. 
In  a  little  peace,  in  a  little  peace. 
Like  fierce  beasts  that  a  common  thirst  makes  brothers. 
We  draw  together  to  one  hid  dark  lake  ; 
In  a  little  peace,  in  a  little  peace. 
We  drain  with  all  our  burthens  of  dishonour 
Into  the  cleansing  sands  o'  the  thirsty  grave. 
The  fiery  pomps,  brave  exhalations. 
And  all  the  glistering  shows  o'  the  seeming  world. 
Which  the  sight  aches  at,  we  unwinking  see 
Through  the  smoked  glass  of  Death  ;   Death,  where- 
with's  fined 

92 


The  muddy  wine  of  life  ;   that  earth  doth  purge  ^*^ 

Of  her  plethora  of  man  ;   Death,  that  doth  flush  of  Earth 

The  cumbered  gutters  of  humanity  ; 

Nothing,  of  nothing  king,  with  front  uncrowned. 

Whose  hand  holds  crownets  ;   playmates  swart  o'  the 

strong  ; 
Tenebrous  moon  that  flux  and  refluence  draws 
Of  the  high-tided  man  ;   skull-housed  asp 
That  stings  the  heel  of  kings ;   true  Fount  of  Youth, 
Where  he  that  dips  is  deathless  ;   being's  drone-pipe  ; 
Whose  nostril  turns  to  blight  the  shrivelled  stars. 
And  thicks  the  lusty  breathing  of  the  sun  ; 
Pontifical  Death,  that  doth  the  crevasse  bridge 
To  the  steep  and  trifid  God  ;   one  mortal  birth 
That  broker  is  of  immortality. 
Under  this  dreadful  brother  uterine, 
This  kinsman  feared,  Tellus,  behold  me  come. 
Thy  son  stern-nursed  ;   who  mortal-motherlike. 
To  turn  thy  weanlings'  mouth  averse,  embitter'st 
Thine  over-childed  breast.      Now,  mortal-sonlike, 
I  thou  hast  suckled.  Mother,  I  at  last 
Shall  sustenant  be  to  thee.      Here  I  untrammel. 
Here  I  pluck  loose  the  body's  cerementing, 
And  break  the  tomb  of  life  ;  here  I  shake  ofl" 
The  bur  o'  the  world,  man's  congregation  shun. 
And  to  the  antique  order  of  the  dead 
I  take  the  tongueless  vows  :  my  cell  is  set 
Here  in  thy  bosom ;  my  little  trouble  is  ended 
In  a  little  peace. 


93 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 


95 


'EX   ORE    INFyiNTIUM' 

)ITTLE  Jesus,  wast  Thou  shy 
.Once,  and  just  so  small  as  I  ? 
/And  what  did  it  feel  like  to  be 
)Out  of  Heaven,  and  just  like  me  ? 
'Didst  Thou  sometimes  think  of  theref 

And  ask  where  all  the  angels  were  ? 

I  should  think  that  I  would  cry 

For  my  house  all  made  of  sky  ; 

I  would  look  about  the  air. 

And  wonder  where  my  angels  were  ; 

And  at  waking  'twould  distress  me  — 

Not  an  angel  there  to  dress  me  ! 

Hadst  Thou  ever  any  toys. 

Like  us  little  girls  and  boys  ? 

And  didst  Thou  play  in  Heaven  with  all 

The  angels  that  were  not  too  tall. 

With  stars  for  marbles  ?     Did  the  things 

Play  Can  you  see  me  ?  through  their  wings  ? 

And  did  Thy  Mother  let  Thee  spoil 

Thy  robes,  with  playing  on  our  soil  ? 

How  nice  to  have  them  always  new 

In  Heaven,  because  'twas  quite  clean  blue  ! 

Didst  Thou  kneel  at  night  to  pray. 
And  didst  Thou  join  Thy  hands,  this  way  ? 
And  did  they  tire  sometimes,  being  young, 
And  make  the  prayer  seem  very  long  ? 
And  dost  Thou  like  it  best,  that  we 
Should  join  our  hands  to  pray  to  Thee? 
I  used  to  think,  before  I  knew. 
The  prayer  not  said  unless  we  do. 
And  did  Thy  Mother  at  the  night 
Kiss  Thee,  and  fold  the  clothes  in  right  ? 
And  didst  Thou  feel  quite  good  in  bed. 
Kissed,  and  sweet,  and  Thy  prayers  said  ? 
97  7 


'  Ex  Ore  Thou  canst  not  have  forgotten  all 

njan  mm  That  it  feels  like  to  be  small  : 

And  Thou  know'st  I  cannot  pray 

To  Thee  in  my  father's  way  — 

When  Thou  wast  so  little,  say, 

Couldst  Thou  talk  Thy  Father's  way?  — 

So,  a  little  Child  come  down 

And  hear  a  child's  tongue  like  Thy  own; 

Take  me  by  the  hand  and  walk. 

And  listen  to  my  baby-talk. 

To  Thy  father  show  my  prayer 

(He  will  look.  Thou  art  so  fair). 

And  say  :    '  O  Father,  I,  Thy  Son, 

Bring  the  prayer  of  a  little  one.' 

And  He  will  smile,  that  children's  tongue 
Has  not  changed  since  Thou  wast  young  ! 


A   QUESTION 

BIRD  with  heart  of  wassail. 

That  toss  the  Bacchic  branch. 
And  slip  your  shaken  music. 

An  elfin  avalanche  ; 

Come  tell  me,  O  tell  me. 

My  poet  of  the  blue  ! 
What  ^s  your  thought  of  me.  Sweet  ?  — 

Here's  my  thought  of  you. 

A  small  thing,  a  wee  thing, 

A  brown  fleck  of  nought ; 
With  winging  and  singing 

That  who  could  have  thought  ? 

98 


A  small  thing,  a  wee  thing,  A  Question 

A  brown  amaze  withal. 
That  fly  a  pitch  more  azure 

Because  you  're  so  small. 

Bird,  I  'm  a  small  thing  — 

My  angel  descries ; 
With  winging  and  singing 

That  who  could  surmise  ? 

Ah,  small  things,  ah,  wee  things. 

Are  the  poets  all. 
Whose  tour  's  the  more  azure 

Because  they  '  re  so  small. 


The  angels  hang  watching 
The  tiny  men-things  :  — 

'The  dear  speck  of  flesh,  sec. 
With  such  daring  wings  ! 

'  Come,  tell  us,  O  tell  us. 

Thou  strange  mortality  ! 
What 's  iby  thought  of  us,  Dear  ?  — 

Here  's  our  thought  of  thee.' 

*  Alack  !  you  tall  angels, 

I  can't  think  so  high  ! 
I  can't  think  what  it  feels  like 

Not  to  be  I.' 

Come  tell  me,  O  tell  me. 

My  poet  of  the  blue  ! 
What 's  your  thought  of  me.  Sweet  ?■ 

Here  's  my  thought  of  you. 
99 


FIELD-FLOWER 

A    PHANTASY 

5OD  took  a  fit  of  Paradise-wind, 

A  slip  of  coerule  weather, 
)A  thought  as  simple  as  Himself, 
And  ravelled  them  together. 
Unto  His  eyes  He  held  it  there. 
To  teach  it  gazing  debonair 

With  memory  of  what,  perdie, 
A  God's  young  innocences  were. 
His  fingers  pushed  it  through  the  sod  — 
It  came  up  redolent  of  God, 
Garrulous  of  the  eyes  of  God 
To  all  the  breezes  near  it  ; 
Musical  of  the  mouth  of  God 
To  all  had  eyes  to  hear  it  ; 
Mystical  with  the  mirth  of  God, 
That  glow-like  did  ensphere  it. 

J„d —  «  Babble!  babble  !  babble  !  '  said; 

*  r  II  tell  the  whole  world  one  day  !* 
There  was  710  blossom  half  so  glad. 
Since  sun  of  Christ's  first  Sunday. 


A  poet  took  a  flaw  of  pain, 

A  hap  of  skiey  pleasure, 
A  thought  had  in  his  cradle  lain. 

And  mingled  them  in  measure. 
That  chrism  he  laid  upon  his  eyes. 
And  lips,  and  heart,  for  euphrasies. 

That  he  might  see,  feel,  sing,  perdie. 
The  simple  things  that  are  the  wise. 
Beside  the  flower  he  held  his  ways. 
And  leaned  him  to  it  gaze  for  gaze  — 
He  took  its  meaning,  gaze  for  gaze. 

As  baby  looks  on  baby  ; 

100 


Its  meaning  passed  into  his  gaze,  Pieid- 

Ni  Flower 

ative  as  meaning  may  be  ; 

He  rose  with  all  his  shining  gaze 

As  children's  eyes  at  play  be. 

And—  '  Babble  !  babble!  babble  !  '  said; 

'  I '//  te//  the  whole  world  one  day  !  ' 

There  was  no  poet  half  so  glad. 

Since  man  grew  God  that  Sunday. 


THE   CLOUD'S   SWAN-SONG 

MERE  is  a  parable  in  the  pathless  cloud, 
]There  's  prophecy  in  heaven,  — they  did  not 
lie. 
The  Chaldee  shepherds  ;   sealed  from  the  proud. 
To  cheer  the  weighted  heart  that  mates  the  seeing  eye. 

A  lonely  man,  oppressed  with  lonely  ills 

And  all  the  glory  fallen  from  my  song. 

Here  do  I  walk  among  the  windy  hills. 

The  wind  and  I  keep  both  one  monotoning  tongue. 

Like  grey  clouds  one  by  one  my  songs  upsoar 
Over  my  soul's  cold  peaks  ;  and  one  by  one 
They  loose  their  little  rain,  and  are  no  more  ; 
And  whether  well  or  ill,  to  tell  me  there  is  none. 

For  'tis  an  alien  tongue,  of  alien  things. 
From  all  men's  care,  how  miserably  apart  ! 
Even  my  friends  say :   •  Of  what  is  this  he  sings  ?  * 
And  barren  is  my  song,  and  barren  is  my  heart. 

For  who  can  work,  unwitting  his  work's  worth  ? 
Better,  meseems,  to  know  the  work  for  naught. 
Turn  my  sick  course  back  to  the  kindly  earth. 
And  leave  to  ampler  plumes  the  jetting  tops  of  thought. 

lOI 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA  COLLEGE  LIBRABT 


The  And  visitations,  that  do  often  use, 

Swan-Sotiz  I^^"^o'^^>  unhappy,  inauspicious  sense 

Of  doom,  and  poets  widowed  of  their  muse. 

And  what  dark  'gan,  dark  ended,  in  me  did  commence. 

I  thought  of  spirit  wronged  by  mortal  ills. 

And  my  flesh  rotting  on  my  fate's  dull  stake  ; 

And  how  self-scorned  they  the  bounty  fills 

Of  others,  and  the  bread,  even  of  their  dearest,  take. 

I  thought  of  Keats,  that  died  in  perfect  time. 
In  predecease  of  his  just-sickening  song  ; 
Of  him  that  set,  wrapt  in  his  radiant  rhyme. 
Sunlike  in  sea.     Life  longer  had  been  life  too  long. 

But  I,  exanimate  of  quick  Poesy,  — 

O  then,  no  more  but  even  a  soulless  corse  ! 

Nay,  my  Delight  dies  not ;   't  is  I  should  be 

Her  dead,  a  stringless  harp  on  which  she  had  no  force. 

Of  my  wild  lot  I  thought ;   from  place  to  place, 

Apollo's  song-bowed  Scythian,  I  go  on  ; 

Making  in  all  my  home,  with  pliant  ways. 

But,  provident  of  change,  putting  forth  root  in  none. 

Now,  with  starved  brain,  sick  body,  patience  galled 

With  fardels  even  to  wincing ;   from  fair  sky 

Fell  sudden  little  rain,  scarce  to  be  called 

A  shower,  which  of  the  instant  was  gone  wholly  by. 

What  cloud  thus  died  I  saw  not ;   heaven  was  fair. 
Methinks  my  angel  plucked  my  locks  :   I  bowed 
Mv  spirit,  shamed  ;   and  looking  in  the  air  :  — 
'Even  so,'   I  said,    'even  so,   my  brother    the  good 
Cloud  ? ' 

I02 


It  was  a  pilgrim  of  the  fields  of  air.  The 

Its  home  was  allwheres  the  wind  left  it  rest. 

And  in  a  little  forth  again  did  fare. 

And  in  all  places  was  a  stranger  and  a  guest. 


Clotid's 
Swan-Song 


Jt  harked  all  breaths  of  heaven,  and  did  obev 
With  sweet  peace  their  uncomprehended  wills ; 
It  knew  the  eyes  of  stars  which  made  no  stay. 
And  with  the  thunder  walked  upon  the  lonely  hills. 

And  from  the  subject  earth  it  seemed  to  scorn. 
It  drew  the  sustenance  whereby  it  grew 
Perfect  in  bosom  for  the  married  Morn, 
And  of  his  life  and  light  full  as  a  maid  kissed  new. 

Its  also  darkness  of  the  face  withdrawn. 

And  the  long  waiting  for  the  little  light. 

So  long  in  life  so  little.      Like  a  fawn 

It  fled  with  tempest  breathing  hard  at  heel  of  flight ; 

And  having  known  full  East,  did  not  disdain 
To  sit  in  shadow  and  oblivious  cold. 
Save  what  all  loss  doth  of  its  loss  retain. 
And  who  hath  held  hath  somewhat  that  he  still  must 
hold. 

Right  poet  !  who  thv  rightness  to  approve. 
Having  all  liberty,  didst  keep  all  measure. 
And  with  a  firmament  for  ranging,  move 
But  at  the  heavens'  uncomprehended  pleasure. 

With  amplitude  unchecked,  how  sweetlv  thou 
Didst  wear  the  ancient  custom  of  the  skies. 
And  yoke  of  used  prescription  ;  and  thence  how 
Find  gay  variety  no  license  could  devise  ! 
103 


The   ^         As  we  the  quested  beauties  better  wit 
Swan-Sono^^'^  ^^  one  grove  our  own  than  forests  great. 
Restraint,  by  the  delighted  search  of  it. 
Turns  to  right  scope.      For  lovely  moving  intricate 

Is  put  to  fair  devising  in  the  curb 
Of  ordered  limit;   and  all-changeful  Hermes 
Is  Terminus  as  well.      Yet  we  perturb 
Our  souls   for  latitude,  whose  strength  in  bound  and 
term  is. 

How  far  am  I  from  heavenly  liberty. 
That  play  at  policy  with  change  and  fate. 
Who  should  my  soul  from  foreign  broils  keep  free. 
In  the  fast-guarded  frontiers  of  its  single  state  ! 

Could  I  face  firm  the  Is,  and  with  To-be 

Trust  Heaven  ;   to  Heaven  commit  the  deed,  and  do  ; 

In  power  contained,  calm  in  infirmity. 

And  fit  myself  to  change  with  virtue  ever  new ; 

Thou  hadst  not  shamed  me,  cousin  of  the  sky. 
Thou  wandering  kinsman,  that  didst  sweetly  live 
Unnoted,  and  unnoted  sweetly  die. 
Weeping  more  gracious  song  than  any  I  can  weave ; 

Which  these  gross-tissued  words  do  sorely  wrong. 
Thou  hast  taught  me  on  powerlessness  a  power  ; 
To  make  song  wait  on  life,  not  life  on  song  ; 
To  hold  sweet  not  too  sweet,   and    bread  for  bread 
though  sour  ; 

By  law  to  wander,  to  be  strictly  free. 
With  tears  ascended  from  the  heart's  sad  sea. 
Ah,  such  a  silver  song  to  Death  could  I 
Sing,  Pain  would  list,  forgetting  Pain  to  be. 
And  death  would  tarry  marvelling,  and  forget  to  die  ! 

1 04 


TO   THE   SINKING   SUN 

)OVV  graciously  thou  wear'st  the  yoke 

Ot  use  that  does  not  fail  ! 
(The  grasses,  like  an  anchored  smoke. 
Ride  in  the  bending  gale  ; 
This  knoll  is  snowed  with  blosmy  manna. 
And  fire-dropt  as  a  seraph's  mail. 

Here  every  eve  thou  stretchest  out 

Untarnishable  wing. 
And  marvellously  bring' st  about 

Newly  an  olden  thing  ; 
Nor  ever  through  like-urdered  heaven 

Moves  largely  thy  grave  progressing. 

Here  every  eve  thou  goest  down 

Behind  the  self-same  hill. 
Nor  ever  twice  alike  go'st  down 

Behind  the  self-same  hill  ; 
Nor  like-ways  is  one  flame-sopped  flower 

Possessed  with  glory  past  its  will. 

Not  twice  alike  !  I  am  not  blind. 

My  sight  is  live  to  see  ; 
And  yet  I  do  complain  of  thy 

Weary  variety. 
O  Sun  !  I  ask  thee  less  or  more. 

Change  not  at  all,  or  utterly ! 

O  give  me  unprevisioned  new. 

Or  give  to  change  reprieve  ! 
For  new  in  me  is  olden  too. 

That  I  for  sameness  grieve. 
O  flowers  !    O  grasses  !   be  but  once 

The  grass  and  flower  of  yester-eve  I 
105 


To  the 

Sinking 

Sun 


Wonder  and  sadness  are  the  lot 

Qi  change :  thou  yield'st  mine  eyes 

Grief  of  vicissitude,  but  not 
Its  penetrant  surprise. 

Immutabihty  mutable 

Burthens  my  spirit  and  the  skies. 


O  altered  joy,  all  joyed  of  yore. 
Plodding  in  unconned  ways  ! 

0  grief  grieved  out,  and  yet  once  more 
A  dull,  new,  staled  amaze ! 

1  dream,  and  all  was  dreamed  before. 

Or  dream  I  so  ?  the  dreamer  says. 


GRIEF'S   HARMONICS 

^T  evening,  when  the  lank  and  rigid  trees, 
)To  the  mere  forms  of  their  sweet  day-selves 
drying. 
On  heaven's  blank  leaf  seem  pressed  and  flattened  ; 
Or  rather,  to  my  sombre  thoughts  replying. 
Of  plumes  funereal  the  thin  effigies  ; 
That  hour  when  all  old  dead  things  seem  most  dead. 
And  their  death  instant  most  and  most  undying. 
That  the  flesh  aches  at  them  ;   there  stirred  in  me 
The  babe  of  an  unborn  calamity. 
Ere  its  due  time  to  be  delivered. 
Dead  sorrow  and  sorrow  unborn  so  blent  their  pain. 
That  which  more  present  was  were  hardly  said. 
But  both  more  now  than  any  Now  can  be. 
My  soul  like  sackcloth  did  her  body  rend. 
And  thus  with  Heaven  contend  :  — 
*  Let  pass  the  chalice  of  this  coming  dread. 
Or  that  fore-drained  O  bid  me  not  re-drain  ! ' 

1 06 


So  have  I  asked,  who  know  mv  asking  vain.  Griefs 

,_-  .  .    ,  Harmonics 

Woe  against  woe  in  antiplion  set  over. 

That  grief's  soul  transmigrates,  and  lives  again, 
And  in  new  pang  old  pang's  incarnated. 


MEMORAT   MEMORIA 

OME  you  living  or  dead  to  me,  out  of  the 
silt  of  the  Past, 

With   the   sweet  of  the  piteous  first,  and  the 
shame  of  the  shameful  last  ? 
Come  with  your  dear  and  dreadful  face  through  the 

passes  of  Sleep, 
The  terrible  mask,  and  the  face  it  masked  —  the  face 

you  did  not  keep  ? 
You   are    neither    two    nor  one  —  I   would  you  were 

one  or  two, 
For  your  awful  self  is  embalmed  in  the  fragrant  self  I 

knew  : 
And  Above  may  ken,  and   Beneath   may  ken,  what  I 

mean  by  these  words  of  whirl. 
But  my  sleep  that  sleepeth   not,  —  O    Shadow    of  a 

Girl  !  — 
Nought   here  but   I    and    my  dreams   shall   know  the 

secret  of  this  thing  :  — 
For   ever  the   songs  I    sing  are  sad  with  the  songs  I 

never  sing. 
Sad  are  sung  songs,  but  how  more  sad   the  songs  we 

dare  not  sing  ! 
Ah,  the  ill  that  we  do  in   tenderness,  and  the  hateful 

horror  of  love  ! 
It  has  sent  more  souls  to  the  unslaked   Pit  than  it  ever 

will  draw  above. 
I  damned  you,  girl,  with  my  pity,  who  had  better  by 

far  been  thwart, 
107 


Memorat     And  drave  you  hard  on  the  track  to  hell,  because  I  was 
Memoria  gentle  of  heart. 

I  shall  have  no  comfort  now  in  scent,  no  ease  in  dew, 

for  this ; 
I  shall  be  afraid  of  daffodils,  and  rose-buds  are  amiss  ; 
You  have  made  a  thing  of  innocence  as  shameful  as  a 

sin, 
I  shall  never  feel  a  girl's  soft  arms  without  horror  of 

the  skin. 
My  child !  what   was  it  that  I  sowed,  that  I  so  ill 

should  reap  } 
You  have  done  this  to  me.     And  I,  what  I  to  you  ? 

It  lies  with  Sleep. 


JULY  FUGITIVE 

'AN  you  tell  me  where  has  hid  her 

Pretty  Maid  July  ? 
I  would  swear  one  day  ago 
She  passed  by, 
I  would  swear  that  I  do  know 

The  blue  bliss  of  her  eye  : 
*  Tarry,  maid,  maid,'  I  bid  her  ; 

But  she  hastened  by. 
Do  you  know  where  she  has  hid  her  ? 
Maid  July  ? 

Yet  in  truth  it  needs  must  be 

The  flight  of  her  is  old  ; 
Yet  in  truth  it  needs  must  be. 

For  her  nest,  the  earth,  is  cold. 
No  more  in  the  pooled  Even 

Wade  her  rosy  feet. 
Dawn-flakes  no  more  plash  from  them 

To  poppies  'mid  the  wheat. 

io8 


She  has  muddied  the  day's  oozes  J"h 

With  her  petulant  feet ;  "■^'  '*"* 

Scared  the  clouds  that  floated. 

As  sea-birds  they  were. 
Slow  on  the  coerule 

Lulls  of  the  air. 
Lulled  on  the  luminous 

Levels  of  air  : 
She  has  chidden  in  a  pet 

All  her  stars  from  her ; 

Now  they  wander  loose  and  sigh 

Through  the  turbid  blue. 
Now  they  wander,  weep,  and  cry  — 

Yea,  and  I  too  — 
*  Where  are  you,  sweet  July, 

Where  are  you  ? ' 

Who  hath  beheld  her  footprints. 

Or  the  pathway  she  goes  ? 
Tell  me,  wind,  tell  me,  wheat. 

Which  of  you  knows? 
Sleeps  she  swathed  in  the  flushed  Arctic 

Night  of  the  rose  ? 
Or  lie  her  limbs  like  Alp-glow 

On  the  lily's  snows? 
Gales,  that  are  all-visitant. 

Find  the  runaway  ; 
And  for  him  who  findeth  her 

(I  do  charge  you  say) 
I  will  throw  largesse  of  broom 

Of  this  summer's  mintage, 
I  will  broach  a  honey-bag 

Of  the  bee's  best  vintage. 
Breezes,  wheat,  flowers  sweet 

None  of  them  knows  ! 
109 


July  How  then  shall  we  lure  her  back 

"■^^  '^'  From  the  way  she  goes  ? 

For  it  were  a  shameful  thing, 
Saw  we  not  this  comer 
Ere  Autumn  camp  upon  the  fields 
Red  with  rout  of  Summer. 


When  the  bird  quits  the  cage. 

We  set  the  cage  outside. 
With  seed  and  with  water. 

And  the  door  wide. 
Haply  we  may  win  it  so 

Back  to  abide. 
Hang  her  cage  of  earth  out 

O'er  Heaven's  sunward  wall. 
Its  four  gates  open,  winds  in  watch 

By  reined  cars  at  all ; 
Relume  in  hanging  hedgerows 

The  rain-quenched  blossom. 
And  roses  sob  their  tears  out 

On  the  gale's  warm  heaving  bosom  % 


Shake  the  lilies  till  their  scent 

Over-drip  their  rims  ; 
That  our  runaway  may  see 

We  do  know  her  whims  : 
Sleek  the  tumbled  waters  out 

For  her  travelled  limbs  ; 
Strew  and  smooth  blue  night  thereon. 

There  will  —  O  not  doubt  her  !  — 
The  lovely  sleepy  lady  lie. 

With  all  her  stars  about  her  ! 


no 


TO    A   SNOW-FLAKE 

iHAT  heart  could  have  thought  you?' 

I  Past  our  devisal 

i(0  filigree  petal  !) 
Fashioned  so  purely, 
Fragilely,  surely. 
From  what  Paradisal 
Imagineless  metal. 
Too  costly  for  cost  ? 
Who  hammered  you,  wrought  you. 
From  argentine  vapour  ?  — 
*  God  was  my  shaper. 
Passing  surmisal. 

He  hammered.  He  wrought  me. 
From  curled  silver  vapour. 
To  lust  of  His  mind  ;  — 
Thou  could'st  not  have  thought  me  ! 
So  purely,  so  palely, 
Tinily,  surely. 
Mightily,  frailly, 
Insculped  and  embossed. 
With  His  hammer  of  wind. 
And  His  graver  of  frost.* 


NOCTURN 

WALK,  I  only, 

fNot  I  only  wake  ; 

^Nothing  is,  this  sweet  night. 
But  doth  couch  and  wake 
For  its  love's  sake  ; 
Everything,  this  sweet  night. 
Couches  with  its  mate. 
For  whom  but  for  the  stealthy-visitant  sun 
Is  the  naked  moon 


Nocturn  Tremulous  and  elate  ? 

The  heaven  hath  the  earth 

Its  own  and  all  apart ; 

The  hushed  pool  holdeth 

A  star  to  its  heart. 

You  may  think  the  rose  sleepeth. 

But  though  she  folded  is. 

The  wind  doubts  her  sleeping ; 

Not  all  the  rose  sleeps. 

But  smiles  in  her  sweet  heart 

For  crafty  bliss. 

The  wind  lieth  with  the  rose. 

And  when  he  stirs,  she  stirs  in  her  repose  : 

The  wind  hath  the  rose. 

And  the  rose  her  kiss. 

Ah,  mouth  of  me  ! 

Is  it  then  that  this 

Seemeth  much  to  thee  ?  — 

I  wander  only. 

The  rose  hath  her  kiss. 


MAY  BURDEN 

^HROUGH  meadow-ways  as  I  did  tread, 
jThe  corn  grew  in  great  lustihead, 
[And  hey  !   the  beeches  burgeoned. 
By  Goddes  fay,  by  Goddes  fay  ! 
It  is  the  month,  the  jolly  month. 
It  is  the  jolly  month  of  May. 

God  ripe  the  wines  and  corn,  I  say. 
And  wenches  for  the  marriage-day. 
And  boys  to  teach  love's  comely  play. 
By  Goddes  fay,  by  Goddes  fay  ! 
It  is  the  month,  the  jolly  month. 
It  is  the  jolly  month  of  May. 

iia 


As  I  went  down  by  lane  and  lea,  ^  ^^^ 

The  daisies  reddened  so,  pardie  ! 
*  Blushets  ! '   I  said,  *  I  well  do  see. 

By  Goddes  fay,  by  Goddes  fay  ! 
The  thing  ye  think  of  in  this  month, 
Heigho  !   this  jolly  month  of  May.' 

As  down  I  went  by  rye  and  oats. 
The  blossoms  smelt  of  kisses  ;   throats 
Of  birds  turned  kisses  into  notes  ; 

By  Goddes  fay,  by  Goddes  fay  ! 
The  kiss  it  is  a  growing  flower, 
I  trow,  this  jolly  month  of  May  ! 

God  send  a  mouth  to  every  kiss. 
Seeing  the  blossom  of  this  bliss 
By  gathering  doth  grow,  certes  ! 

By  Goddes  fay,  by  Goddes  fay  ! 
Thy  brow-garland  pushed  all  aslant 
Tells  —  but  I  tell  not,  wanton  May  ! 

Note.      The    first    two    stanzas    are    from   a   French 
original  —  I  have  forgotten  what. 


A   DEAD    ASTRONOMER 

(father   perry,  S.  J.) 
I  TARRY  amorist,  starward  gone, 
vgjjThou  art  —  what  thou  didst  gaze  upon  ! 
^Passed  through  thy  golden  garden's  bars. 
Thou  seest  the  Gardener  of  the  Stars. 

She,  about  whose  mooned  brows 
Seven  stars  make  seven  glows. 
Seven  lights  for  seven  woes  ; 
"3  8 


A  Dead 
Asironumer 


She,  like  thine  own  Galaxy, 
All  lustres  in  one  purity  :  — 
What  said'st  thou.  Astronomer. 
When  thou  didst  discover  her  ? 
When  thy  hand  its  tube  let  fall. 
Thou  found' St  the  fairest  Star  of  all ! 


CHOSE   VUE 

A    METRICAL    CAPRICE 

^P  she  rose,  fair  daughter —  well  she  was  graced 
(As  a  cloud  her  going,  stept  from  her  chair, 
^^^^^As  a  summer-soft  cloud,  in  her  going  paced, 
Down  dropped  her  riband-band,  and  all  her  waving 

hair 
Shook  like  loosened  music,  cadent  to  her  waist ;  — 
Lapsing  like  music,  wavery  as  water. 
Slid  to  her  waist. 


'WHERETO    ART    THOU    COME?' 

(^^^RIEND,   whereto    art   thou  come?' 


Thus 


H^i^Of  each  that  to  the  world's  sad  Olivet 
Comes  with  no  multitude,  but  alone  by  night. 
Lit  with  the  one  torch  of  his  lifted  soul. 
Seeking  her  that  he  may  lav  hands  on  her  ; 
Thus  :   and  waits  answer  from  the  mouth  of  deed. 
Truth  is  a  maid,  whom  men  woo  diversely  ; 
This,  as  a  spouse  ;  that,  as  a  light-o'-love. 
To  know,  and  having  known,  to  make  his  brag. 
But  woe  to  him  that  takes  the  immortal  kiss. 
And  not  estates  her  in  his  housing  life, 

"4 


Mother  of  all  his  seed  !     So  he  betrays,  '  tV/'f»-'to 


Art  Thou 


Not  Truth,  the  unbetrayable,  but  himself:  Come? 

And  with  his  kiss's  rated  traitor-craft. 
The  Haceldama  of  a  plot  of  days 
He  buys,  to  consummate  his  Judasry 
Therein  with  Judas'  guerdon  of  despair. 


HEAVEN   AND   HELL 

j^IS  said  there  were  no  thought  of  hell 

Save  hell  were  taught ;  that  there  should  be 
^^A  Heaven  for  all  's  self-credible. 
Not  so  the  thing  appears  to  me. 
'Tis  Heaven  that  lies  beyond  our  sights. 

And  hell  too  possible  that  proves  ; 
For  all  can  feel  the  God  that  smites. 

But  ah,  how  few  the  God  that  loves ! 


TO  A    CHILD 

5HENAS  my  life  shall  time  with  funeral  tread 
)The  heavy  death-drum  of  the  beaten  hours, 
^Following,  sole  mourner,  mine  own  manhood 
head. 
Poor  forgot  corse,  where  not  a  maid  strows  flowers  ; 
When  I  you  love  am  no  more  I  you  love. 
But  go  with  unsubservient  feet,  behold 
Your  dear  face  through  changed  eyes,  all  grim  change 

prove  ;  — 
A  new  man,  mocked  with  misname  of  old  ; 
When  shamed  Love  keep  his  ruined  lodging,  elf! 
When,  ceremented  in  mouldering  memory. 
Myself  is  hearsed  underneath  myself. 
And  I  am  but  the  monument  of  me  :  — 

O  to  that  tomb  be  tender  then,  which  bears 
Only  the  name  of  him  it  sepulchres  ! 
IIS 


HERMES 

^^gOOTHSAY.       Behold,    with    rod    twy-ser- 
^^^^  pented, 

G^^^Hermes  the  prophet,  twining  in  one  power 
The  woman  with  the  man.      Upon  his  head 
The  cloudy  cap,  wherewith  he  hath  in  dower 
The  cloud's  own  virtue  —  change  and  counterchange. 
To  show  in  light,  and  to  withdraw  in  pall. 
As  mortal  eyes  best  bear.      His  lineage  strange 
From  Zeus,  Truth's  sire,  and  maiden  May — the  all- 
Illusive  Nature.      His  fledged  feet  declare 
That  'tis  the  nether  self  transdeified. 
And  the  thrice-furnaced  passions,  which  do  bear 
The  poet  Olympusward.      In  him  allied 

Both    parents   clasp  ;     and    from    the    womb    of 

Nature 
Stern  Truth  takes  flesh  in  shows  of  lovely  feature. 


HOUSE   OF   BONDAGE 

I 

)HEN  I  perceive  Love's  heavenly  reaping  still 
I  Regard  perforce  the  clouds'  vicissitude, 
)That  the  fixed  spirit  loves  not  when  it  will. 
But  craves  its  seasons  of  the  flavvful  blood  ; 
When  I  perceive  that  the  high  poet  doth 
Oft  voiceless  stray  beneath  the  uninfluent  stars. 
That  even  Urania  of  her  kiss  is  loath. 
And  Song's  brave  wings  fret  on  their  sensual  bars ; 
When  1  perceived  the  fullest-sailed  sprite 
Lag  at  most  need  upon  the  lethed  seas. 
The  provident  captainship  oft  voided  quite. 
And  lamed  lie  deep-draughted  argosies ; 

I  scorn  myself,  that  put  for  such  strange  toys 
The  wit  of  man  to  purposes  of  boys. 

il6 


II  House  of 

Bondage 

The  spirit's  ark  sealed  with  a  little  clay. 

Was  old  ere  Memphis  grew  a  memory  ;  ^ 

The  hand  pontilical  to  break  away 

That  seal  what  shall  surrender  ?      Not  the  sea 

Which  did  englut  great  Egypt  and  his  war. 

Nor  all  the  desert-drowned  sepulchres. 

Love's  feet  are  stained  with  clay  and  travel-sore. 

And  dusty  are  Song's  lucent  wing  and  hairs. 

O  Love,  that  must  do  courtesy  to  decay. 

Eat  hasty  bread  standing  with  loins  up-girt. 

How  shall  this  stead  thy  feet  for  their  sore  way  ? 

Ah,  Song,  what  brief  embraces  balm  thy  hurt  ! 
Had  Jacob's  toil  full  guerdon,  casting  his 
Twice-seven  heaped  years  to  burn  in  Rachel's 
kiss  ? 


THE   HEART 

TWO    SONNETS 

(To  my  Critic,  who  had  objected  to  the  phrase —  '  The 
heart's  burning  floors.'') 

I 

^HE  heart  you  hold  too  small  and  local  thing, 

|Such  spacious  terms  of  edifice  to  bear. 

.And  yet,  since  Poesy  first  shook  out  her  wing. 

The  mighty  Love  has  been  impalaced  there  ; 

That  has  she  given  him  as  his  wide  demesne. 

And  for  his  sceptre  ample  empery  ; 

Against  its  door  to  knock  has  Beauty  been 

Content  ;  it  has  its  purple  canopy 

^  The   Ark  of  the    Egyptian   temple  was  sealed  with 
clay;  which  the  PontifF-King  broke  when  he  entered  the 
inner  shrine  to  offer  worship. 
117 


The  Heart  A  dais  for  the  sovereign  lady  spread 

Of  many  a  lover,  who  the  heaven  would  think 
Too  low  an  awning  for  her  sacred  head. 
The  world,  from  star  to  sea,  cast  down  its  brink  — 
Yet  shall  that  chasm,  till  He  Who  these  did  build 
An  awful  Curtius  make  Him,  yawn  unfilled. 


O  nothing,  in  this  corporal  earth  of  man. 
That  to  the  imminent  heaven  of  his  high  soul 
Responds  with  colour  and  with  shadow,  can 
Lack  correlated  greatness.      If  the  scroll 
Where  thoughts  lie  fast  in  spell  of  hieroglyph 
Be  mighty  through  its  mighty  habitants  ; 
If  God  be  in  His  Name  ;    grave  potence  if 
The  sounds  unbind  of  hieratic  chants  ; 
All's  vast  that  vastness  means.      Nay,  I  affirm 
Nature  is  whole  in  her  least  things  exprest. 
Nor  know  we  with  what  scope  God  builds  the  worm. 
Our  towns  are  copied  fragments  from  our  breast ; 
And  all  man's  Baby  Ions  strive  but  to  impart 
The  grandeurs  of  his  Babylonian  heart. 


A   SUNSET 

FROM   Hugo's  *  feuilles  d'automne  ' 
^^^  LOVE   the   evenings,  passionless   and  fair,  I 


H'^waI  \ovt  the  evens, 

is2-^^Whether    old    manor-fronts     their     ray    with 
golden  fulgence  leavens. 
In  numerous  leafage  bosomed  close  ; 
Whether  the  mist  in  reefs  of  fire  extend  its  reaches 

sheer. 
Or   a  hundred  sunbeams  splinter   in  an  azure  atmo- 
sphere 

On  cloudy  archipelagos. 

ii8 


Oh  gaze  ye  on  the  firmament  !   a  hundred  clouds  in  ^  Sunset 

motion. 
Up-piled  in  the  immense  sublime  beneath  the  winds' 
commotion. 

Their  unimagined  shapes  accord  : 
Under    their  waves  at    intervals  flames  a  pale  levin 

through. 
As  if  some  giant  of  the  air  amid  the  vapours  drew 
A  sudden  elemental  sword. 

The  sun  at  bay  with  splendid  thrusts  still  keeps  the 

sullen  fold  ; 
And  momently  at  distance  sets,  as  a  cupola  of  gold. 

The  thatched  roof  of  a  cot  a-glance  ; 
Or  on  the  blurred  horizons  joins  his  batde  with  the 

haze  ; 
Or  pools  the  glooming  fields  about  with  inter-isolate 
blaze. 

Great  moveless  meres  of  radiance. 

Then  mark  you  how  there  hangs  athwart  the  firma- 
ment's swept  track 
Yonder  a  mighty  crocodile  with  vast  irradiant  back, 

A  triple  row  of  pointed  teeth  ? 
Under  its  burnished  belly  slips  a  ray  of  eventide. 
The    flickerings    of    a    hundred     glowing    clouds    its 
tenebrous  side 

With  scales  of  golden  mail  ensheathe. 
Then  mounts  a  palace,   then    the    air  vibrates  —  the 

vision  flees. 
Confounded  to  its  base,  the  fearful  cloudy  edifice 

Ruins  immense  in  mounded  wrack  : 
Afar  the  fragments    strew  the  sky,   and   each  enver- 

meiled  cone 
Hangeth,  peak  downward,    overhead,  like  mountains 
overthrown 

When  the  earthquake  heaves  its  hugy  back. 
119 


A  Sunset    These  vapours  with  their  leaden,  golden,  iron,  bronzed 
glows. 
Where   the  hurricane,  the  waterspout,  thunder,   and 
hell  repose. 

Muttering  hoarse  dreams  of  destined  harms, 
'Tis  God  who  hangs  their  multitude  amid  the  skiey 

deep. 
As  a  warrior  that    suspendeth    from  the  roof- tree  of 
his  keep 

His  dreadful  and  resounding  arms ! 


All  vanishes !     The    sun,    from    topmost   heaven  pre- 
cipitated. 
Like  to  a  globe  of  iron  which  is  tossed  back  fiery  red 

Into  the  furnace  stirred  to  fume. 
Shocking    the    cloudy    surges,   plashed    from    its    im- 
petuous ire. 
Even  to  the  zenith   spattereth   in  a  flecking  scud  of 
fire 

The  vaporous  and  inflamed  spume. 


O  contemplate  the  heavens!  whenas  the  vein-drawn 

day  dies  pale. 
In  every  season,  every  place,  gaze  through  their  every 
veil. 

With  love  that  has  not  speech  for  need  ; 
Beneath  their  solemn  beauty  is  a  mystery  infinite  : 
If  winter   hue    them  like  a  pall ;    or   if  the   summer 
night 

Fantasy  them  with  starry  brede. 


lEARD   ON   THE   MOUNTAIN 

FROM  Hugo's  '  feuilles  d'automne' 

)AVE   you   sometimes,  calm,   silent,  let  your 

tread  aspirant  rise 
[Up  to  the  mountain's  summit,  in  the  presence 
of  the  skies  ? 
Was't   on   the   borders  of  the  South  ?   or  on  the  Bre- 

tagne  coast  ? 
And    at    the   basis  of  the  mount   had  you   the   ocean 

tossed  ? 
And    there,    leaned   o'er   the  wave  and  o'er  the  im- 

measurableness. 
Calm,  silent,  have  you  harkened    what  it  says  ?     Lo  ! 

what  it  says  ! 
One  day   at  least,    whereon   my   thought,    enlicensed 

to  muse. 
Had  drooped  its  wing  above  the  bleached  margent  of 

the  ooze. 
And,    plunging    from    the   mountain    height    into    the 

immensity. 
Beheld  upon    one    side  the  land,    on   the   other  side 

the  sea. 
I  harkened,  comprehended,  —  never,  as   from    those 

abysses. 
No,  never  issued   from  a  mouth,  nor   moved   an  ear, 

such  voice  as  this  is  ! 

A  sound  it  was,  at  outset,  vast,  immeasurible,  con- 
fused. 

Vaguer  than  is  the  wind  among  the  tufted  trees 
effused. 

Full  of  magnificent  accords,  suave  murmurs,  sweet 
as  is 

The  evensong,  and  mighty  as  the  shock  of  panoplies 

When  the  hoarse  melee  in  its  arms  the  closing  squad- 
rons grips, 

121 


Heard        And  pants,  in  furious  breathings,  from  the  clarions* 
'Mountain  brazen  lips. 

Unutterable  the  harmony,  unsearchable  its  deep, 
Whose   fluid   undulations   round    the  world    a    girdle 

keep. 
And  through  the  vasty   heavens,  which  by  its  surges 

are  washed  young. 
Its  infinite  volutions  roll,  enlarging  as  they  throng. 
Even  to  the  profound  arcane,  whose  ultimate  chasms 

sombre 
Its  shattered  flood   englut  with   time,  with  space   and 

form  and  number. 
Like    to    another    atmosphere    with    thin    o'erflowing 

robe. 
The  hymn  eternal  covers  all  the  inundated  globe  : 
And  the  world,  swathed  about  with  this  investuring 

symphony. 
Even  as  it  trepidates  in  the  air,  so  trepidates  in  the 

harmony. 


And  pensive,  I  attended  the  ethereal  lutany. 
Lost    within  this   containing    voice    as  if  within  the 
sea. 


Soon  I  distinguished,  yet  as  tone  which  veils  confuse 

and  smother. 
Amid   this   voice  two  voices,   one   commingled  with 

the  other. 
Which   did  from   off  the  land  and  seas  even  to  the 

heavens  aspire ; 
Chanting  the  universal  chant  in  simultaneous  quire  ; 
And  I  distinguished  them  amid  that  deep  and  rumor- 

ous  sound. 
As    who    beholds    two    currents     thwart    amid    the 

fluctuous  profound. 


The  one  was  of  the    waters ;    a    be-radiant    liymnal  Heard 

speech!  -t,,,„ 

That  was  the  voice  o'   the  surges,  as  they  parleyed 

each  with  each. 
The  other,  which  arose  from  our  abode  terranean. 
Was  sorrowful  ;   and  that,  alack  !   the  murmur  was  of 

man  ; 
And  in  this  mighty  quire,  whose  chantings  day  and 

night  resound. 
Every    wave    had    its    utterance,   and   every    man   his 

sound. 


Now,  the  magnificent  Ocean,  as  I  said,  unbannering 
A  voice  of  joy,  a  voice  of  peace,  did    never  stint  to 

sing. 
Most  like  in  Sion's  temples  to  a  psaltery  psaltering. 
And  to   creation's   beauty   reared   the  great  lauds  of 

his  song. 
Upon  the   gale,   upon    the  squall,  his    clamour  borne 

along 
Unpausingly  arose  to  God  in  more  triumphal  swell  ; 
And  every  one  among  his  waves,  that  God  alone  can 

quell, 
When  the  other  of  its  song  made  end,  into  the  singing 

pressed. 
Like  that  majestic  lion  whereof  Daniel  was  the  guest. 
At  intervals  the  Ocean  his  tremendous  murmur  awed  ; 
And  I,  t'ward  where  the  sunset  fires  fell  shaggily  and 

broad. 
Under  his  golden  mane,   methought,  that  I  saw  pass 

the  hand  of  God. 

Meanwhile,    and   side  by  side  with   that  august  fan- 
faronade. 

The  other  voice,  like  the  sudden  scream  of  a  destrier 
affray  ed 
123 


Heard         Like  an  infernal  door  that  grates  ajar  its  rusty  throat, 

on  the 

Moutttain 


on  the  -j^jj^g  jQ  ^  j^Q^  Q^  jj.Qj^  j.j^^j.  gjiai-ls  upon  an  iron  rote. 


Grinded  ;   and  tears,    and   shriekings,    the    anathema, 

the  lewd  taunt. 
Refusal  of  viaticum,  refusal  of  the  font. 
And  clamour,  and  malediction,  and  dread  blasphemy, 

among 
That  hurtling  crowd  of  rumour  from  the  diverse  human 

tongue. 
Went  by  as  who  beholdeth,  when  the  valleys  thick 

t'ward  night. 
The  long  drifts  of  the  birds  of  dusk  pass,  blackening 

flight  on  flight. 
What  was  this  sound  whose   thousand  echoes  vibrated 

unsleeping  ? 
Alas!  the  sound  was  earth's  and  man's,  for  earth  and 

man  were  weeping. 

Brothers  \  of  these  two  voices,  strange   most  unima- 
ginably. 
Unceasingly  regenerated,  dying  unceasing, 
Harkened  of  the  Eternal  throughout  His  Eternity, 
The   one   voice   uttereth  :    Nature  !    and    the    other 
voice  :   Humanity  ! 

Then  I  alit  in  reverie  ;  for  my  ministering  sprite 
Alack  !  had  never  yet  deployed  a  pinion  of  an  ampler 

flight. 
Nor  ever  had  my  shadow  endured  so  large  a  day  to 

burn  : 
And  long  I   rested  dreaming,  contemplating  turn  by 

turn 
Now  that   abyss  obscure   which  lurked  beneath   the 

water's  roll. 
And  now  that  other  untemptable  abyss  which  opened 

in  my  soul. 

124 


And  I  made  quesdon  of  me,  to   what  issues  are  we  Heard 

,  ^  on  the 

"^re.  Mountain 

Whither  should  tend  the  thwardng  threads  of  all  this 

ravelled  gear  ; 
What  doth  the  soul  ;  to  be  or  live  if  better  worth  it 

is; 
And   why   the    Lord,  Who,  only,  reads   within    that 

book  of  His, 
In  fatal  hymeneals  hath  eternally  entwined 
The  vintage-chant  of  nature  with   the  dirging  cry  of 

humankind  ? 


(The  metre  of  the  second  of  these  two  translations  is 
an  experiment.  The  splendid  fourteen-syllable  metre  of 
Chapman  I  have  treated  after  the  manner  of  Drydenian 
rhyming  heroics  ;  with  the  occasional  triplet,  and  even 
the  occasional  Alexandrine,  represented  by  a  line  of  eight 
accents — a  treatment  which  can  well  extend,  I  believe, 
the  majestic  resources  of  the  metre.) 


125 


ULTIMA 


127 


LOVE'S    ALMSMAN  PLAINETH   HIS    FARE 
YOU,  love's  mendicancy  who  never  tried, 
How  little  of  your  almsman  me  you 
know  ! 
Your    little    languid  hand  in   mine   you 
^  slide. 

Like  to  a  child  says  —  *  Kiss  me  and  let  me  go  !  * 
And  night  for  this  is  fretted  with  my  tears. 

While  I :  —  *  How  soon  this  heavenly  neck  doth 
tire 
Bending  to  me  from  its  transtellar  spheres  !  ' 

Ah,  heart  all  kneaded  out  of  honey  and  fire  ! 
Who  bound  thee  to  a  body  nothing  worth. 

And  shamed  thee  much  with  an  unlovely  soul. 
That  the  most  strainedest  charity  of  earth 

Distasteth  soon  to  render  back  the  whole 
Of  thine  inflamed  sweets  and  gentilesse  ! 

Whereat,  like  an  unpastured  Titan,  thou 
Gnaw'st  on  thyself  for  famine's  bitterness. 

And  leap' St  against  thy  chain.      Sweet  Lady,  how 
Little  a  linking  of  the  hand  to  you  ! 

Though  I  should  touch  yours  careless  for  a  year. 
Not  one  blue  vein  would  lie  divinelier  blue 

Upon  your  fragile  temple,  to  unsphere 
The  seraphim  for  kisses  !     Not  one  curve 

Of  your  sad  mouth  would    droop  more    sad    and 
sweet. 
But  little  food  love's  beggars  needs  must  serve. 

That  eye  your  plenteous  graces  from  the  street. 
A  hand-clasp  I  must  feed  on  for  a  night, 

A  noon,  although  the  untasted  feast  you  lay. 
To  mock  me,  of  your  beauty.      That  you  might 

Be  lover  for  one  space,  and  make  essay 
What  't  is  to  pass  unsuppered  to  your  couch. 

Keep  fast  from  love  all  day  ;  and  so  be  taught 
The  famine  which  these  craving  lines  avouch  ! 
129  9 


Lcfve's  Ah  !  miser  of  good  things  that  cost  thee  naught, 

'pi^ineth      ^°^  know' St  thou  poor  men's  hunger  ? —  Misery! 
His  Fare    When  I  go  doleless  and  unfed  by  thee  ! 


A   HOLOCAUST 

'  NO  MAN  EVER  ATTAINED  SUPREME  KNOWLEDGE 
UNLESS  HIS  HEART  HAD  BEEN  TORN  UP  BY  THE 
ROOTS.' 

JHEN  I   presage  the  time  shall  come — yea, 
now 
Perchance  is  come,  when  you  shall  fail  from 
me. 
Because  the  mighty  spirit,  to  whom  you  vow 

Faith  of  kin  genius  unrebukably. 
Scourges  my  sloth,  and  from  your  side  dismissed 

Henceforth  this  sad  and  most,  most  lonely  soul 
Must,  marching  fatally  through  pain  and  mist. 

The  God-bid  levy  of  its  powers  enrol  ; 
When  I  presage  that  none  shall  hear  the  voice 

From   the   great  Mount  that   clangs   my   ordained 
advance. 
That  sullen  envy  bade  the  churlish  choice 

Yourself  shall  say,  and  turn  your  altered  glance  ; 
O  God  !      Thou  knowest  if  this  heart  of  flesh 
Quivers  like  broken  entrails,  when  the  wheel 
Rolleth  some  dog  in  middle  street,  or  fresh 

Fruit  when  ye  tear  it  bleeding  from  the  peel ; 
If  my  soul  cries  the  uncomprehended  cry 
When  the  red  agony  oozed  on  Olivet ! 
Yet  not  for  this,  a  caitiff,  falter  I, 

Beloved  whom  I  must  lose,  nor  thence  regret 
The  doubly-vouched  and  twin  allegiance  owed 
To  you  in  Heaven,  and  Heaven  in  you.  Lady. 

130 


How  could  you  hope, loose  dealer  with  my  God,  ^ 

That  I  should  keep  for  you  my  fealty  ?  ■"'  "'""^ 

For  still  'tis  thus  :  —  because  1  am  so  true. 
My  Fair,  to  Heaven,  I  am  so  true  to  you  ! 


BENEATH   A   PHOTOGRAPH 

^HCEBUS,  who  taught  me  art  divine, 
'Here  tried  his  hand  where  I  did  mine ; 
(Mr^llMJAnd  his  white  fingers  in  this  face 
Set  my  Fair's  sigh-suggesting  grace. 
O  sweetness  past  profaning  guess. 
Grievous  with  its  own  exquisiteness  ! 
Vesper-like  face,  its  shadows  bright 
With  meanings  of  sequestered  light  ; 
Drooped  with  shamefast  sanctities 
She  purely  fears  eyes  cannot  miss. 
Yet  would  blush  to  know  she  is. 
Ah,  who  can  view  with  passionless  glance 
This  tear-compelling  countenance  ! 
He  has  cozened  it  to  tell 
Almost  its  own  miracle. 
Yet  I,  all-viewing  though  he  be, 
Methinks  saw  further  here  than  he  ; 
And,  Master  gay  !  I  swear  I  drew 
Something  the  better  of  the  two  ! 


AFTER   HER   GOING 

^HE  after- even  !      Ah,  did  I  walk. 
Indeed,  in  her  or  even  ? 
I  For  nothing  of  me  or  around 
But  absent  She  did  leaven. 
Felt  in  my  body  as  its  soul. 

And  in  my  soul  its  heaven. 
131 


After  Her  <  Ah  me  !  my  very  flesh  turns  soul, 

°'^^  Essenced,'  I  sighed,  '  with  bliss!' 

And  the  blackbird  held  his  lutany. 
All  fragrant-through  with  bliss  ; 
And  all  things  stilled  were  as  a  maid 
Sweet  with  a  single  kiss. 

For  grief  of  perfect  fairness,  eve 
Could  nothing  do  but  smile ; 

The  time  was  far  too  perfect  fair. 
Being  but  for  awhile  ; 

And  ah,  in  me,  too  happy  grief 
Blinded  herself  with  smile  ! 

The  sunset  at  its  radiant  heart 

Had  somewhat  unconfest : 
The  bird  was  loath  of  speech,  its  song 

Half-refluent  on  its  breast. 
And  made  melodious  toyings  with 

A  note  or  two  at  best. 

And  she  was  gone,  my  sole,  my  Fair, 
Ah,  sole  my  Fair,  was  gone  ! 

Methinks,  throughout  the  world  'twere  right 
I  had  been  sad  alone ; 

And  yet,  such  sweet  in  all  things'  heart. 
And  such  sweet  in  my  own  ! 


MY   LADY   THE   TYRANNESS 

i)E  since  your  fair  ambition  bows 
IjFeodary  to  those  gracious  brows, 
■jlgls  nothing  mine  will  not  confess 
Your  sovran  sweet  rapaciousness  ? 

132 


Though  use  to  the  white  yoke  inures.  My  Lady 

Half- petulant  is  ^;^' 

\7  1      •  1     1   r  11-  lyranness 

Your  loving  rebel  for  somewhat  his. 

Not  yours,  my  love,  not  yours  ! 

Behold  my  skies,  which  make  with  me 

One  passionate  tranquillity! 

Wrap  thyself  in  them  as  a  robe. 

She  shares  them  not  ;   their  azures  prohe. 

No  countering  wings  thy  flight  endures. 

Nay,  they  do  stole 

Me  like  an  aura  of  her  soul. 

I  yield  them,  love,  for  yours  ! 

But  mine  these  hills  and  fields,  which  put 

Not  on  the  sanctity  of  her  foot. 

Far  off,  my  dear,  far  off  the  sweet 

Grave  pianissimo  of  your  feet ! 

My  earth,  perchance,  your  sway  abjures }  — 

Your  absence  broods 

O'er  all,  a  subtler  presence.      Woods, 

Fields,  hills,  all  yours,  all  yours  ! 

Nay  then,  I  said,  I  have  my  thought. 
Which  never  woman's  reaching  raught; 
Being  strong  beyond  a  woman's  might. 
And  high  beyond  a  woman's  height. 
Shaped  to  my  shape  in  all  contours. — • 
I  looked,  and  knew 
No  thought  but  you  were  garden  to. 
All  yours,  my  love,  all  yours ! 

Meseemeth  still,  I  have  my  life  ; 
All-clement  Her  its  resolute  strife 
Evades  ;  contained,  relinquishing 
Her  mitigating  eyes  ;  a  thing 

133 


My  Lady  Which  the  whole  girth  of  God  secures. 

%ranness  ^h,  fool,  pause  !   pause  ! 

1  had  no  life,  until  it  was 
All  yours,  my  love,  all  yours  ! 

Yet,  stern  possession!      I  have  my  death. 

Sole  yielding  up  of  my  sole  breath; 

Which  all  within  myself  I  die. 

All  in  myself  must  cry  the  cry 

Which  the  deaf  body's  wall  immures.  — 

Thought  fashioneth 

My  death  without  her.  —  Ah,  even  death 

All  yours,  my  love,  all  yours  ! 

Death,  then,  he  hers.      I  have  my  heaven. 

For  which  no  arm  of  hers  has  striven  ; 

Which  solitary  I  must  choose. 

And  solitary  win  or  lose. — 

Ah,  but  not  heaven  my  own  endures  ! 

I  must  perforce 

Taste  you,  my  stream,  in  God  your  source,  ■ 

So  steep  my  heaven  in  yours. 

At  last  I  said — I  have  my  God, 
Who  doth  desire  me,  though  a  clod. 
And  from  His  liberal  Heaven  shall  He 
Bar  in  mine  arms  His  privacy. 
Himself  for  mine  Himself  assures. — 
None  shall  deny 
God  to  be  mine,  but  He  and  I 
All  yours,  my  love,  all  yours ! 

I  have  no  fear  at  all  lest  I 

Without  her  draw  felicity. 

God  for  His  Heaven  will  not  forego 

Her  whom  I  found  such  heaven  below, 

134 


And  she  will  train  Him  to  her  lures,  ^y  ^'"^y 

Nought,  lady,  I  love  %ranness 

In  you  but  more  is  loved  above  ; 
What  made  me,  makes  Him  yours. 

*  I,  thy  sought  own,  am  I  forgot  ?  ' 
Ha,  thou  ?  —  thou  liest,  I  seek  thee  not. 
Why  what,  thou  painted  parrot.  Fame, 
What  have  I  taught  thee  but  her  name  ? 
Hear,  thou  slave  Fame,  while  Time  endures, 
I  give  her  thee  ; 

Page  her  triumphal  name  !  —  Lady, 
Take  her,  the  thrall  is  yours. 


UNTO   THIS   LAST 

BOY'S  young  fancy  taketh  love 
Most  simply,  with  the  rind  thereof; 
A  boy's  young  fancy  tasteth  more 
The  rind,  than  the  deific  core. 
Ah,  Sweet !   to  cast  away  the  slips 
Of  unessential  rind,  and  lips 
Fix  on  the  immortal  core,  is  well  ; 
But  heard' st  thou  ever  any  tell 
Of  such  a  fool  would  take  for  food 
Aspect  and  scent,  however  good. 

Of  sweetest  core  Love's  orchards  grow  ? 
Should  such  a  phantast  please  him  so. 
Love  where  Love's  reverent  self  denies 
Love  to  feed,  but  with  his  eyes. 
All  the  savour,  all  the  touch. 
Another's  —  was  there  ever  such  ? 
Such  were  fool,  if  fool  there  be  ; 
Such  fool  was  I,  and  was  for  thee  ! 

»35 


Unto  this  But  if  the  touch  and  savour  too 

Of  this  fruit  —  say.  Sweet,  of  you  — 

You  unto  another  give 

For  sacrosanct  prerogative. 

Yet  even  scent  and  aspect  were 

Some  elected  Second's  share  ; 

And  one,  gone  mad,  should  rest  content 

With  memory  of  show  and  scent; 

Would  not  thyself  vow,  if  there  sigh 

Such  a  fool  — say.  Sweet,  as  I  — 

Treble  frenzy  it  must  be 

Still  to  love,  and  to  love  thee  ? 

Yet  had  I  torn  (man  knoweth  not. 
Nor  scarce  the  unweeping  angels  wot 
Of  such  dread  task  the  lightest  part) 
Her  fingers  from  about  my  heart. 
Heart,  did  we  not  think  that  she 
Had  surceased  her  tyranny  ? 
Heart,  we  bounded,  and  were  free  ! 
O  sacrilegious  freedom!  —  Till 
She  came,  and  taught  my  apostate  will 
The  winnowed  sweet  mirth  cannot  guess 
And  tear-fined  peace  of  hopelessness ; 
Looked,  spake,  simply  touched,  and  went. 
Now  old  pain  is  fresh  content. 
Proved  content  is  unproved  pain. 
Pangs  fore-tempted,  which  in  vain 
I,  faithless,  have  denied,  now  bud 
To  untempted  fragrance  and  the  mood 
Of  contrite  heavenliness ;  all  days 
Joy  affrights  me  in  my  ways ; 
Extremities  of  old  delight 
Afflict  me  with  new  exquisite 
Virgin  piercings  of  surprise, — 
Stung  by  those  wild  brown  bees,  her  eyes! 

136 


JLTIMUM 

OW  in  these  last  spent   drops,   slow,  slower 
shed. 

Love  dies.  Love  dies.   Love  dies  —  ah.  Love 
is  dead  ! 
Sad  Love  in  life,  sore  Love  in  agony. 
Pale  love  in  death  ;   while  all  his  offspring  songs. 
Like  children,  versed  not  in  death's  chilly  wrongs. 
About  him  flit,  frighted  to  see  him  lie 
Se  still,  who  did  not  know  that  Love  could  die. 
One  lifts  his  wing,  where  dulls  the  vermeil  all 
Like  clotting  blood,  and  shrinks  to  find  it  cold. 
And  when  she  sees  its  lapse  and  nerveless  fall 
Clasps    her   fans,    while    her   sobs    ooze    through    the 

webbed  gold. 
Thereat  all  weep  together,  and  their  tears 
Make  lights  like  shivered  moonlight  on  long  waters 
Have  peace,  O  piteous  daughters  ! 
He  shall  not  wake  more  through  the  mortal  years. 
Nor  comfort  come  to  my  soul  widowed. 
Nor  breath  to  your  wild  wings ;  for  Love  is  dead  ! 
I  slew,  that  moan  for  him  :   he  lifted  me 
Above  myself,  and  that  I  might  not  be 
Less  than  myself,  need  was  that  he  should  die  ; 
Since  Love  that  first  did  wing,  now  clogged  me  from 

the  sky. 
Yet  lofty  Love  being  dead  thus  passeth  base  — 
There  is  a  soul  of  nobleness  which  stays. 
The  spectre  of  the  rose  :   be  comforted. 
Songs,  for  the  dust  that  dims  his  sacred  head  ! 
The  days  draw  on  too  dark  for  Song  or  Love  ; 
O  peace,  my  songs,  nor  stir  ye  any  wing  ! 
For  lo,  the  thunder  hushing  all  the  grove. 
And  did  Love  live,  not  even  Love  could  sing. 
And,  Lady,  thus  I  dare  to  say. 
Not  all  with  you  is  passed  away! 
137 


Ultimum     For  your  love  taught  me  this:  —  'tis  Love's  true  praise 
To  be,  not  staff,  but  writ  of  worthy  days  ; 
And  that  high  worth  in  love  unfortunate 
Should  still  remain  it  learned  in  love  elate. 
Beyond  your  star,  still,  still  the  stars  are  bright ; 
Beyond  your  highness,  still  I  follow  height ; 
Sole  I  go  forth,  yet  still  to  my  sad  view. 
Beyond  your  trueness.  Lady,  Truth  stands  true. 
This  wisdom  sings  my  song  with  last  firm  breath. 
Caught  from  the  twisted  lore  of  Love  and  Death, 
The  strange  inwoven  harmony  that  wakes 
From    Pallas'    straying   locks    twined   with    her   asgis- 

snakes. 
*  On  him  the  unpetitioned  heavens  descend. 
Who  heaven  on  earth  proposes  not  for  end  ; 
The  perilous  and  celestial  excess 
Taking  with  peace,  lacking  with  thankfulness. 
Bliss  in  extreme  befits  thee  not,  until 
Thou'rt  not  extreme  in  bliss ;   be  equal  still  : 
Sweets  to  be  granted  think  thyself  unmeet 
Till  thou  have  learned  to  hold  sweet  not  too  sweet.' 
This  thing  not  far  is  he  from  wise  in  art 
Who  teacheth  ;   nor  who  doth,  from  wise  in  heart. 


ENVOY 

^O,  songs,  for  ended  is  our  brief,  sweet  play  ; 
Go,  children  of  swift  joy  and  tardy  sorrow  ; 
|And  some  are  sung,  and  that  was  yesterday. 
And  some  unsung,  and  that  may  be  to-morrow. 

Go  forth  ;  and  if  it  be  o'er  stony  way, 

Old  joy  can  lend  what  newer  grief  must  borrow : 

And  it  was  sweet,  and  that  was  yesterday. 

And  sweet  is  sweet,  though  purchased  with  sorrow. 

138 


Go,  songs,  and  come  not  back  from  your  far  way  :        Envoy 
And  it  men  ask  you  why  ye  smile  and  sorrow. 

Tell  them  ye  grieve,  for  your  hearts  know  To-day, 
Tell  them  ye  smile,  for  your  eyes  know  To-morrow. 


139 


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